


Midwinter Night, that Dream

by YurikoNeko (AlaxxisSade)



Series: Midwinter Night [1]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First attempt at, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, May be continued, Mundane life, Reunions, Smut, What-If, for the first time ever i used the mature tag, it started off as a harmless angsty oneshot, no not really, now there's, only the first three actually show up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaxxisSade/pseuds/YurikoNeko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a white winter night, as I search for the color in my life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When Time Unfroze, that Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this ages ago, only remembered to post it today... Eh, better late than never.

Sometimes I wonder if this is a dream.

                Getting flushed down the toilet, becoming king in an alternate world, meeting those people…

                Was that really just a dream?

                Or is this the dream?

                “Shibuya! Is that proposal done?”

                “J-Just a minute!” Hurriedly I lower my head and continue typing.

                It’s a dead-end job, at a dead-end place. A dead-end life, basically.

                I’m not too sure where it all went down the drain, so to speak. Maybe it all started with that time I punched the coach in middle school. Well, that was the end of my baseball dream, but fifteen years later, I can look back and say, to be honest I was never going to get anywhere. I just got introduced to my grass lot team earlier, that’s all.

                We’re having a game again this Saturday. I’ve gone from being the youngest member to one of the oldest, can you imagine that? Ah, but there’s a different fun in teaching the youngsters, even if they run faster than me, throw better than me, and call me Gramps while I’m not yet thirty.

                I sigh, and keep on typing. After a few years at the same job, the same desk, even a musclebrain like me can do this while my thoughts wander.

                The phone rings. A break in the monotony.

                “Good morning, this is Shibuya from—”

                “Shi~bu~ya~”

                The corners of my mouth lift, just a little. “Yo, Murata.”

                I’m not supposed to take personal calls at work, but after I lost my cellphone for the third time Murata finally gave up and asked for my work phone. I’d have gotten in trouble for it if he weren’t working in the next department, albeit in a higher position. Speaking of which—

                “I heard you got promoted again? Congratulations.”

                “Ah, it’s all the same. Same place, same people, just more space and more people to deal with.”

                I’m not sure if I envy him. I’m supposed to, I guess—We’re the same age, but other than that we have next to nothing in common anymore. Our lives went on completely separate paths since middle school, and he was always one step above me, ahead of me: an elite private high school, a spot in one of the country’s top universities. He was good at anything, could have done anything. I went to a public high school, then went to a local college and took a course I didn’t particularly care about.

                In the end we joined this company together, albeit in different departments. A few years later, and he’s well on his way to becoming my boss.

                Still, it’s hard to envy someone for having things they don’t want.

                “Nee, Shibuya, what are you doing tonight?”

                “Tonight?” I glance at my calendar, even though I knew it would be empty. “There’s no practice today, so maybe I’ll hit the batting ranges. Want to join me?”

                He still doesn’t fancy baseball, but sometimes we pack an early dinner and he watches me bat after we eat. We’re not supposed to eat in there, but the owner is a nice guy.

                Sometimes I dream about quitting this job and working there full-time, even though there’s not nearly the amount of business there to support two employees. I’ll probably have to live off a part-timer’s salary. Then Mom will worry, and when she can’t reach my phone, that scary Jennifer from Yokohama might pay a visit to my office…

                Almost thirty and having your mom barge into your workplace, worried for you… Heh. How embarrassing. Somewhere in the back of my mind, someone is snorting at me and calling me a wimp. I almost forget I’m still on the phone with Murata.

                “…Nah, I think today I’ll pass.”

                “Ah-ha, you have a date today, don’t you?” I tease him, though I can’t remember the girl’s name anymore. He’s had a few, but none of them ever made much of an impact on me…

                “Nope, we broke up.”

                “Ehh!? Why?”

                “Because you can’t remember her name.”

                “It’s true, but what kind of a reason is that!?”

                “Forget that, what about you?”

                What a way to change the topic. I fall silent immediately.

                His sigh crackles over the phone. “When’s the last time you spoke to Hashimoto?”

                “… Last month?”

                “Those three seconds there, you were thinking, ‘Who’s that?’, weren’t you? And why are you replying with a question?” Murata pauses. “Shibuya… Have you ever thought about going the other way?”

                “Huh? What are you talking about?” My voice is unnaturally jolly. “You know my type—”

                “Older women, right? But it’s funny, even if you find them, you never keep them.”

                “That’s because I’m not—” their type. But that doesn’t mean everything. If I really liked them, I wouldn’t watch them walk away. I would chase them, and tie them by my side until they looked at me properly, just like—

                “Shibuya? Shibuya, are you there?”

                “Y-Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Listen, I don’t know why you think that, but I’m completely straight, okay? S-T-R—”

 

It’s snowing when I find myself in front of the address Murata dictated to me over the phone.

                What am I doing here? I’m just curious, that’s it. There’s no way I… I just haven’t found the right girl yet.

                A voice in the back of my mind is telling me, I’ll never find the right girl.

                I take one step towards the bar, my right foot sinking into the snow.

                No, I’m not that—that desperate. This life isn’t that bad. I don’t have any responsibilities, there’s only so much I can mess up. There’s no one tying me down—

                _\--no one waiting for me at home—_

                -- I can go wherever I want to go, do whatever I want to do—

                _\--where do I want to go? what do I want to do?—_

                I…

                I’m lonely.

                The snow crunches under my left foot.

                Maybe… Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try. Maybe the person I’m looking for is in there.

                In the cold winter night, I feel as though I’m dissolving into the darkness. Another man, older than me, seems to hesitate, but finally he makes up his mind and pushes the door open. A bell jingles pleasantly, and for a second I get a peek inside. Warmth and laughter leaks out into the night.

                Could he be in there?

                The door opens again, and a pair of guys stumble out. I wince, trying to avoid them, but they pay me no attention—they have eyes only for each other.

                For a second there, I feel a stab of envy, followed by self-aware surprise. So… that’s what I wanted?

                No, says the voice in my head. But my body moves forward anyway.

                Maybe in there’s where I’ll find the continuation of that dream, the dream I never dared to ask Murata about.

                I push open the door, looking for that beautiful blonde head—

                _“Where the hell do you think you’re going!?”_

The voice in my head pierces my ears, and I’m suddenly being strangled. My feet flail in mid-air as someone pulls me by the back of my collar, tossing me into the snow.

                I land face-first. The fresh white snow gets into my nose, and my mouth.

                “I come all this way, and this is where I find you!? About to enter one of these—these—”

                I don’t have to look up to know his breath is forming angry crystals in the cold night air. His emerald eyes are probably glowering, his hands on his hips haughtily. The shadow he casts over me as the door to the bar closes is long-- he’s probably grown taller than he was in my dreams. Slowly the door closes, but the warmth doesn’t disappear.

                “Yuuri! Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

                Ah, he’s as stubborn as I remember. Remember… So it wasn’t a dream? Can I believe it’s not a dream?

                “…w-why did you come?”

                If I know for sure that was not a dream… If I can’t lie to myself anymore, if I have to admit that was the life I once had… How can you expect me to deal with this life?

                That time I had with him, with them—It was short, but it was beautiful. So, so beautiful, that the rest of my life seems colorless in comparison.

                He was so beautiful.

                “Wimp. Why do you think?”

                He’s still so beautiful.

                “I came for you.”

                I wipe the wetness from my face as he pulls me back up to my feet. “But I can’t go back.”

                If I could, I would’ve, a long time ago.

                “Then don’t.” He gently pulls my hands away from my face. Ah, as expected, he really has grown. That stubborn prince from before, he’s as elegant as a king now. More a king than I ever was. “I’ll stay.”

                “…Don’t be ridiculous. They need you.”

                “Hmph, as if they get to decide where I stay and go. And you’re as dishonest as ever. If you’re happy to see me, say so.”

                “I’m not—No one ever called me dishonest before.”

                “Maybe not. You’re only dishonest when it comes to your feelings for me.”

                “How conceited…” I remember that I was just about to walk into a gay bar looking for him, and laugh through my tears.

                “…Don’t do that.”

                “D-do what?”

                “Laugh and cry at the same time. If you want to laugh, laugh. And if you want to cry, cry.”

                I choose to laugh. “It sure is embarrassing, huh? A grown man acting like this. I must look so ugly right now.”

                “No, you’re never ugly.” He takes me into his arms. “It just hurts me, that’s all.”

                “…You really don’t have to go back?”

                “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? I cleaned up the mess you left behind, until even Gwendal can’t ask me for anymore, and I trained and trained until I was strong enough to come here on my own. Conrad even saw me off with a smile.”

                “And you’re leaving all that behind?”

                “Idiot. I did all that to get here. I’m finally moving forward.”

                That’s right. The never-ending dream is over. My time is finally moving forward.

                Finally I decide to cry, louder and noisier than I ever had since kindergarten, into his shoulder. My snot gets into the fur on his coat, and he pats my back clumsily, as though being king hadn’t taught him how to console a leaking old man.

                The long, monochrome dream is over. Starting from that white winter night, my world had color again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was inspired by RedGlassesGirl's long-running AU fic and the sombre tone of the doujins, except you'll notice that it's not really an AU after all but sort of another possible-future fic, hahaha... 
> 
> It has an AU-ish premise though, so I might expand on it if I ever get more inspiration, adding chapters and the like. If you enjoy it or have any suggestions, prompts you think might be interesting, leave a comment~


	2. Fifty-three Years, that Back He Chased

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We may or may not have changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For RedGlassesGirl.

“So this is your place?”

                The light in the corridor is flickering as I fumble with my keys, threatening to splutter out altogether. The low cost apartment was already at least twenty years old, and though the presence of a blonde foreign (as in, from another world, not country) prince sort of dispels the haunted atmosphere tonight, I’m struck with an even stronger sense of incompatibility.

                He looks so out of place here, it’s like—Well, like a mazoku in Japan. I just can’t find any other words for it, sorry.

                “Ah, I forgot to clean up, could you wait here for—”

                “Pardon the intrusion,” he calls out loudly, pushing past me, “is what I’m supposed to say, right?”

                “Y-yeah, but…”

                “Ah. Is this your underwear I just stepped on?”

                “…Please wait outside for a minute!”

                I shove him out and slam the door in his face. Before I can think about what I’d done, I run around the tiny two-room apartment, gathering up armfuls of clothes to toss onto my bed and chair, throwing dishes and half-eaten suppers into the sink, ignoring the tears and clanking and occasional sounds of something shattering. There’s no time to vacuum, and I just decided not to remind Wolfram to take off his shoes when the minute is up.

                He lets himself in, taking his shoes off deftly. “I’m home.”

                “What’s with the sudden change!?”

                “I just figured that would be more appropriate. Where do I put these? And what’s so funny?”

                Of all things, after all the shock of tonight, the thing that finally sets me off the edge is the sight of him barefoot.

                “But the floor’s dirty.”

                “Then clean it up.” Wolfram appraises my humble home. “It’s even smaller than our room back in the castle. And what’s with this wall? It’s made of paper!”

                “Oh, that’s a screen door. It’s made light in case of earthquakes. See, it slides open.”

                “And behind it is… your bedroom? Where’s the bed?”

                “…That’s it over there. On the floor.”

                “A sleeping bag?”

                “It’s called a futon.”

                “Hmph.” Somehow he’s still hung up on the screen door. “It’s so flimsy, you could hear anything through this. There’s no privacy at all.”

                “What do you expect to hear!? And what privacy do I need when I’m living alone?”

                “You’re living alone?”

                The sudden, sharp change in his voice makes me back up unconsciously.

                “Y-yeah. Who else did you think would stay with me?”

                He falls suspiciously quiet, and I don’t hurry him, waiting patiently for an answer. For some reason he avoids my gaze, turning his head away and finally says in a voice so low I can barely hear it,

                “…Like a girlfriend… or a wife…”

                “What!? I don’t have anything of that sort!”

                “I can’t believe it! You’re so cute, and you shine wherever you go, and you’re so hopelessly _nice_ to everyone you meet—How can you still be single after so many years!?”

                I’m about to yell back when the significance of his words hit me—He worked so hard to come here, to leave the world he grew up and ventured into a strange world all on his own, whilst expecting me to happily married with kids. Or at least have a girlfriend. My heart twinges painfully in my chest, and not because I disappointed those expectations.

                “…I stopped shining, since I left that world.”

                If I ever shone before, it’s because I had all of you by my side. And I can’t stop the next words from leaving my mouth—

                “Besides, I’m not living alone anymore. You’re moving in, right?”

                I don’t even have the time to be surprised by the ridiculous hope that rises in my chest before he confirms it with a distracted, “Of course. But is there enough space in that sleeping bag?”

                “It’s a futon.” Oh yeah, I forgot how bad a sleeper he was. “Wait, you wanted to sleep together!?” In the same futon!?

                Then I remember who I was talking to. Besides, what am I freaking out about? We used to sleep on the same bed all the time, right? It was sort of a luxury, though, to be able to stay peacefully in the castle with him by my side, and waste our time on something such as sleeping. Come to think of it, we didn’t get to sleep together that often.

                Thinking about it now, I find myself smiling unconsciously. Those were the good ol’ days.

                I can’t believe I forgot. And now he’s going to scold me for it.

                “…You’re right, I was getting ahead of myself. I’ll take the sofa, then.”

                “Huh?”

                Something’s off.

                There’s a long silence as our gazes meet, confused, and suddenly it’s like we forgot how to act around each other. Finally I clear my throat – and burst instead into a coughing fit.

                “I mean… cough… I have a spare…”

                “You really need to clean up in here.” He frowns, patting my back. “And the sofa is fine, I’m not too sure about that thin mattress thing…”

                “They’re really comfy, I assure you!” Especially when you’re not alone. “I—Mine isn’t big enough for the two of us, but I have an extra forb guests, and there’s just enough space on the bedroom floor if I take away my clothes, so—”

                --Sleep together with me.

                “…We can buy a bigger one tomorrow.”

                His emerald eyes feel like they’re looking through me, past my burning ears and muddled mind, straight into my pounding heart. For god’s sake, Shibuya, you’re almost thirty! Stop acting a shoujo manga character!

                “…No, it’s okay.”

                Mom, I’ve been rejected again. But for some reason, it hurts more this time.

                “It’s okay as long as I get to sleep next to you. Where do you keep that spare?”

 

Although all’s well that ends well, that slight misunderstanding reminded me it’s been ten years since we parted.

                “Fifty-three, for me.”

                “Fifty-three years… Wow, I can’t imagine holding onto something for that long…” Crap, did I just say that out loud?

                “Not something, someone.” He swirls the instant tea in his cup, mesmerized by the vertical tea stalk. “You.”

                I cough again. That part of him hasn’t changed. And to think, he spent fifty-three years chasing after me, even though he didn’t know what he would find when he caught up—

                “Thank you. For chasing after me.”

                “You’ve become honest.” He smiles at me, gentler and more mature now, but I can still see that characteristic cockiness sparkling in his eyes. “I should be the one thanking you.”

                “Huh? Why?” I had given up on returning, pretending it was a dream. While he had accomplished so much and grasped his wish with his own hands, I’ve been running on the spot.

                “For waiting for me.”

                …Was that it? Was I waiting for him?

                “Hey, Wolf?”

                “Hm?”

                “I want to ask you something. Can you promise not to get angry, or laugh at me?”

                “Get on with it, wimp.”

                Ah, I miss that. “If you had come here and found me married with two kids, what would you have done?”

                I haven’t changed much, living in the past and aching for that dream, trudging through life like a zombie. But he’s different. Fifty-three years… He has probably done a lot of thinking in that time. How much has he changed?

                “I would have fought for you, and snatched you back with my own two hands.”

                As promised, he doesn’t get mad, or laugh. Instead, a single tear rolls down his cheek.

                “Or at least, that’s what I said I’d do…”

                “W-Wolf!”

                “Don’t look at me!” He presses his forearm against his eyes furiously. “Brother and the others told me to expect anything, they told me that you would have changed, that you might not be alone anymore when I found you. I know some of them thought I was being silly, or stubborn. I told them all I would fight for you. But—But—”

                Flustered, I put my arms around him clumsily, making ‘shh—shh—’ noises like trying to comfort a baby. It should have pissed him right off, but instead he digs his forehead into my shoulder and grabs my clothes fiercely.

                “Sometimes... In the middle of the night, when the bed feels so empty… I dream that you’re happy with your family, and I’m watching you through a window… You’re so close, yet I can’t reach you… And I… I…”

                “You…?” I urge him on gently.

                “Every time… in my dreams… I walk away.”

                The tips of my toes are cold as ice. I forgot to turn the heater on. But the rest of me burns with an intense heat, of pain and pleasure.

                “I couldn’t bring myself to destroy your happiness. Forget fighting for you, I couldn’t even call out to you.”

                This is how he’s changed.

                For fifty-three years…

                “Thank you.”

                He doesn’t cry as embarrassingly as I did. I’m not even sure if there are any more tears. But his whole body is shaking under my unwieldy arms.

                “I’m glad I waited for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I continued it after all... This one seems to be more angsty, huh...
> 
> I have ideas for at least one more chapter, but basically I'm just writing as it goes, every chapter can/could be the ending.


	3. Moving Forward, that Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After catching up, it's time to start walking again. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think... I put a lot more details into this than I intended to...

We both calm down after a few more cups of warm tea. Soon we start to talk, to tell each other what had happened over the past ten/fifty years. There is a lot we need to relearn about each other.

                “How did you know where to find me, by the way?”

                “The—Murata told me. He was there with that doctor when I arrived.”

                Rodriguez is in town? I had no idea. “So he led you to me but he didn’t say a thing about how I was going on?” Meanwhile, he leads me to a gay bar. That man’s sense of humor is getting more twisted by the day.

                “No.” A pause. “I didn’t ask much.”

                I have to laugh at that. “Since when did you become such a coward?”

                “It’s called being cautious! And besides,” he pouts, looking younger again, “I wanted to hear it from you.”

                “Yeah, it’s probably better that you did.” Murata wouldn’t have been able to resist pulling a prank, or adding some vague, ambiguous line that would tempt the imagination. I tell Wolf about university, my job, even a bit about my half-baked relationships. The teacups are soon exchanged for beer cans. He makes a face at the unfamiliar first sip, but soon there are empty cans all over the coffee table. “…So that’s about all I’ve done in the past ten years. How about you?”

                “It’s just like I told you. I did my job as I was asked.”

                “Is that so?” He makes it sound so simple. “Fifty-three years, huh? That’s far longer than my reign, haha. I bet the people have forgotten all about me.” I throw my head back and take a long swig from the can. When I bring my hand down, his beautiful face is almost touching mine.

                “Uwaa--!” I move back on instinct, but he grabs my wrist.

                “Do you know what the people are saying about you, Yuuri?”

                “W-what?”

                “That you’ve done more for the country than any other king in the past millennium. That your ideas have changed the country far faster than anyone could comprehend, and changed the world with it.

                “You started free mandatory education. You emphasized on the importance of the arts. You set up a welfare system. You founded international peace organizations. You created a customs department, and encouraged immigration with proper paperwork. You pushed aside millennia of racial prejudices and introduced equality.”

                He stops, out of breath. All I can do is stare, gaping like a fish. Did I really… do all that? Then I shake my head.

                “All of that… I was just transferring all of that from this world into that one. None of it was my idea in the first place, I just repeated what I was taught—”

                “You weren’t repeating!” He slams his hand onto the table abruptly, and I worry for the frail wooden legs. “I saw how hard it was to implement all that! People weren’t going to take change lying down, yet you pushed against their collective mindset, you inspired and you motivated—I know what it was I saw! I know what I believed in! And it wasn’t you repeating someone else’s ideas, it was you!”

                I see now that his face is rosier than usual. Is he… drunk?

                As though confirming my suspicions, he jabs a swaying finger at me. “I believed in you. So did Brother, and Conrad, and Günter, and even Anissina. When you left, you left only the foundations for change. I couldn’t come look for you until I was sure the changes you made became permanent.”

                There’s a lump in my throat I just can’t seem to swallow. Everything he did for me…

                “Just so you know, it’s because I thought it would be best for the country. I didn’t do it… for you.”

                “What you do for the country is what you do for me, too.” I bow my head deeply. “Thank you. All of you.”

                I hadn’t realized how much I felt for that country, the country that was once mine. It would be arrogant for me to think of it as my child, but I truly felt like an old parent seeing the fruits of many years’ labor. Shin Makoku would always be my home, along with my family here. I’ve left a part of my heart in it.

                “Don’t do that.”

                “Do what?” He seems to have gotten bossier, too, but in a different way.

                “Don’t sound so… formal.” He fidgets uncomfortably. “It makes us feel like strangers. You don’t thank your f—” His voice dies off, but I pretend not to notice. It’s no more than a second, but I see the struggle on his face turn to relief at my silent approval, and he continues, “—fiancé that way.”

                His hesitation is understandable. After half a century, almost any engagement would have been called off as null and void, much less ours, which had always been shaky at best. There were so many stories of lovers who got separated in the war, and reunited decades later as friends.

                From the moment I didn’t protest his use of the word, I realize that I’m not looking for just a friend.

                “Anyway, how are the others doing? Who’s the king now that you’ve come here?”

                “King?” Wolfram is momentarily confused, then his face breaks into a grin. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? We don’t have a Maou anymore.”

                I choke on my beer.

                “Well, this one isn’t completely because of you. After that incident with Shinou, we obviously couldn’t choose kings the way we used to. And since Shinou always chose the new Maou from the Ten Aristocrats anyway, we decided to make it something like a consul system. Every ten years one representative would be elected from the ten, and the others would be the advisors. The other countries still call the current leader the Maou, though. Say it sounds better.”

                “I-I see…”

                His voice suddenly goes softer. “Brother’s dream is to one day allow all the people to vote, or maybe even get elected themselves. It’s going to take a while, though. But he swears he’s going to see it through in his lifetime.”

                Gwendal, the dreamer—I can actually envision it.

                “The country is in good hands.”

                “Mm-hm.” Wolfram finishes his beer. “Alright, enough of that. Shin Makoku’s behind us now, let’s focus on this world.”

                “Eh?” But I want to hear more about how Conrad and the others are doing…

                “I didn’t come here to live off your kindness.” Wolfram’s tone leaves no room for argument. I am absolutely certain he did well in his turn as consul. “What time do you go to work in the morning? When do you get back? What about your meals?”

                I suddenly have this image of him as a housewife and quickly shake it off. Even I know what a waste of talent that would be. “Do you want to get a job?”

                He looks very much tempted, but then he deflates. “Conrad said you can’t get a job in this world without studying here first, and studying costs a lot of money.”

                I shudder at the thought of college fees. “You could always get a part-time job, and work your way up?”

                Wolfram, the convenience store manager…

                “But first I have to learn the language, right?”

                I hadn’t realized it, but of course we were talking in the common language. “Conrad learned English with Rodriguez’s help, so maybe he can help again. Ah, and you also need an identity, meaning some papers—”

                Wolfram is frowning again, and I resist the urge to flick his forehead. “Are those hard to obtain?”

                “Well, it depends on who you ask.” I pick up my phone, making a mental note to get him one, and call the Maou of Earth. “Yo, Shouri, it’s me. Got a minute?”

 

The next evening after I get off from work, I drop by the convenience store on the way back.

                “I-Irrashaimase.”

                “You’re getting better, I can barely hear the accent.”

                Wolfram makes a face at me under the uniform’s cap. Somehow he manages to pull off the collar and stripes while still looking like a prince. It’s definitely not human. “I spent all morning being brainwashed, so I should at least be able to do this much.”

                “Good work,” I say sympathetically, just as the store bell rings and a man in sunglasses walks through the door, looking even more out of place than Wolfram.

                Shouri says the sunglasses are a tribute to Bob, but no matter what he says, a guy wearing sunglasses in the evening, to me, is either blind or suspicious.

                “So, have you considered my offer?”

                “Aniki, you sound even more suspicious when you talk like that.”

                “I have,” Wolfram cuts in before Shouri can retort and completely ruin his image as a power icon. “I’ll take that scholarship. And in exchange, I will work for you.”

                “Are you sure?” I keep having this nagging feeling that I’m selling off my fiancé to the yakuza. “You could always go to night school and work other jobs.”

                “Come to think of it, quite a few people asked me if I wanted to be a model.”

                “A m-model?”

                “You don’t like it?”

                “Eh? I never said—”

                “You’re being dishonest again. Alright, I won’t be a model if you don’t want other people looking at me.”

                When I don’t correct him, the atmosphere becomes suddenly rose-colored. Both of us look away, ears burning.

                “Okay, you two lovebirds.” Shouri sighs heavily. “Blondie, report to the address I gave you tomorrow at eight. And Yuu-chan—” His eyes lock onto me from behind the sunglasses, and I freeze. “My offer for you still stands, too.”

                I smile bitterly. “Aniki, I already told you, I’m not fit for such a high position—”

                “Nonsense, you were once a king.” Wolfram nods his approval at Shouri’s words.

                “It’s not like that.” I tsk in frustration. “That was different. People were forced to follow me because I was chosen.”

                “Well, now I’m choosing you.”

                “You’re my brother! What will people say?” I don’t want to be the person that gets the job by riding on my family’s coattails. My—my pride won’t allow it.

                “What’s wrong with that?” Wolfram looks at us curiously. “In Shin Makoku, all of us get where we are using our families. What do you say about us?”

                That you’re capable, that you survived under the pressure you were born with, that everything you achieved was your own hard work, and nothing to do with your family.

                “And besides, some people are naturally made to be leaders.” Shouri pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Face it, Yuu-chan, you suck at following orders. But you have a mind of your own, you stick by your word, and you inspire loyalty. You inspire, and you motivate.”

                I glance at Wolfram, and he’s looking at me, too.

              “Of course you’d get nowhere with your desk job. You flourish when you lead, your strength is people, not papers.” Shouri holds his hand out to me, like the devil’s deal. “I could use you. Both of you.”

                Wolfram takes his other hand without hesitation, and smiles at me. Poor kid, he doesn’t know my brother is just after his looks. Shibuya Shouri is a politician, and he’ll use whatever cards he has in the smartest, most despicable way he knows. Wolfram will be making deals with older ladies for the rest of his life.

                I sigh, and take his other hand. I couldn’t throw Wolfram into that world alone.

                Just like that, I start running ahead again. And I get the feeling I’ll be running for my life this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not enough fluff yet, I bet... So I didn't want Wolf working as a model because everyone has done it, but what else could he do? Then I thought about Shouri, and then how Yuuri would have lived with the governor of Tokyo as his brother, and...


	4. Underneath the Covers, that Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to take this -- to take us -- one step further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell was I thinking when I set that pattern for the chapter titles zadfgfjfsadkhhkgas I'M RUNNING OUT OF POETIC-SOUNDING WORDS

“We’ll be sad to see you go, Shibuya.”

                I collect my things into a box, wondering how true that is. No, don’t be mean. They probably are sad, in the way you feel sad when a classmate you barely talk to transfers to a different school. Whether or not they’ll remember me in a month is another thing altogether.

                “Do you need help with that?” Abe offers.

                “No, th—” I lift the box, and it’s heavier than I thought, catching me off balance. I’m about to fall face-first, and possibly get impaled on the pen holder souvenir from the manager, when a hand steadies the box from the other side.

                “Careful. Looks like you’re as clumsy as ever.”

                “Why are you here?” I ask without thinking, without even looking up to see his face. My gaze is fixed on his jeans and pleated sweater, complete with a leather sling bag. He looks just like a college student, and makes me feel like an uncle.

                “To fetch you, of course.” By then I realize I’ve been staring at his waist for a lot longer than was comfortable, and hurriedly look up in time to meet his raised eyebrows. “Hurry up, it’s getting late. The shops will close soon.”

                Only then do I realize the office has gotten strangely quiet around me.

                “W-well then, I’ll be going—”

                “Shibuya,” Abe throws his arm over my shoulder and pulls me away. He was always the type who wanted to make friends, and I liked him enough to go along with his advances until we realized that we had nothing in common. Still, he’s a nice guy. And curious. “Who’s _that_?”

                “A friend.”

                “Childhood friend?”

                My time with him in Shin Makoku felt so long ago that I nodded.

                “And he’s from overseas?”

                “Really far away.” It’s not a lie.

                Abe whistles. “Why’s he here? To study?”

                “I came here to find Yuuri.”

                Wolfram pulls me away by the collar, and I see some of the girls melt, while others sigh dejectedly, as though he’s someone they can only see and not touch. I feel a stab of jealousy, but surprisingly, not at Wolf.

                On his part, Wolfram jerks at my collar, nearly suffocating me, and glares at Abe.

                “Let’s go home.”

                My last day of work ends with a loud exclamation of “They’re living together!?”

 

On the way back, we stop by the shops for some groceries and—a new double futon.

                I can feel the stares on us all the way home, and Wolfram is tenser than usual, too. I’m pretty sure he’s remembering how Earth—or at least, Japan, isn’t as nearly as liberal in the matters of the heart as Lady Cheri’s sons would be used to. We’re not who we were in Shin Makoku, either—Here we’re just two grown guys obviously moving in together, without any engagement that the whole world knew about or any exalted status to discourage sharp gazes.

                One mother subtly hides her daughter’s eyes.

                The Wolfram I knew wouldn’t care, or so I thought. I can see he’s fuming inside, wanting to lash out and stop the staring. But he doesn’t. Instead he slowly, gradually, increases the distance between us, until it feels as though we’re completely unrelated. His hands are gripped tightly into fists, the knuckles white.

                I reach around the futon, balancing the one bag of groceries I’m carrying so I can free my right hand, and then I grab his left.

                His hands are both loaded with plastic bags, so it’s clumsy at first, more like I’m trying to glomp his hand together with the handles. But I keep on trying, looking so determined he laughs out loud. After a bit more adjusting, our fingers are properly laced.

                My palm is sweating. I’m not used to this much attention, not here, and once I’m sure we’ve made our point, I start to squirm a little. Surely it feels disgusting, holding onto a sweaty hand like mine.

                The moment I try to release my grip, he tightens his. And he doesn’t ease up in the slightest until we reach our front door, where our neighbor Mrs Hinata is staring unabashedly.

                “L-let go.”

                “Not gonna.”

                He sounds like a smug ten year old, saying ‘but you started it.’

                “How am I gonna open the door like this?”

                “Where are the keys?”

                Eh? Oh, that’s right, I haven’t given him a set yet. “In my pocket.”

                And the next thing you know he’s groping me in front of our elderly neighbor.

                “W-Wolf!”

                “Wait, I almost got it—”

                I’m getting him his copies first thing in the morning!

                Hinata-san’s cloudy eyes are looking clearer than I’ve ever seen them, and then she puts down her watering can, shuffling up to us.

                “H-hurry! Wolf, just—” I hear the click of the door unlocking just as Mrs Hinata calls my name, and by then I have no choice except to turn around stiffly. Two seconds too late, I remember to smile. “H-hi, Hinata-san…”

                “You look constipated.”

                “Shut up!”

                “Shibuya-kun, what are you saying?”

                Only then do I realize Wolfram had spoken in the common language, and I’d replied in turn. I hasten to explain that he was my friend from some faraway country, but she looks one hundred percent suspicious, as though she couldn’t believe I ever left the town, much less the country, and even less learned a new language.

                I’ll admit, my scores in English exams are very low… And I only barely managed to pass the oral test, too... But it’s clear that’s not what Hinata-san’s really curious about.

                “Who is this, Shibuya-kun?”

                “Oh, this is—”

                “My name is Wolfram Bielefeld,” he cuts in quickly, bowing down. “I’ll be staying here from now on, please take care of me.”

                For a second I thought he was going to shake her hand, then I remember that he still hasn’t let go of mine. Hinata-san noticed too, staring out our hands with something like morbid fascination.

                What is your relationship with each other? I can feel the question radiating off her pores, but it’s just not the way over here to ask that out loud. We stand there, all three of us, in the most awkward silence in my life, the question like a ticking time bomb between us.

                Wolfram is waiting for her to ask-- he hasn’t realized that she won’t, not out loud. It’s up to me. My sweat is probably soaking the futon by now. If I tell her he’s my boyfriend, it’ll be bound to send all sorts of nasty rumors flying everywhere. Her attitude towards him is cool enough as it is, and just warmed a few degrees when he spoke perfect Japanese. Foreigners aren’t that welcome here, y’know, especially suspicious foreigners that show up and suddenly move in with the single guy next door. He doesn’t have any family here, either, so he has a completely empty background. Sure, Shouri gave him an ID, but people will definitely start asking, and they won’t find anything. I’m all he has.

                “...We’re engaged.”

                I grip his hand even harder to stop myself from shaking. He’s staring at me in wonder, as is she, though I think her brain is still struggling to register my answer.

                I don’t want people thinking this is a fling, that we’re messing around, or he’s a street worker I picked up, trying to con me. I don’t want to them to bully him for being an outsider, for being alone, for having no family.

                I’ve waited long enough, and I’ve made him wait long enough.

                Blood and adrenaline pumping through my head, I raise our intertwined hands and practically announced to the entire neighborhood:

                “This is my fiancé! Please take care of us from now on!”

 

What have I done what have I done what have I done…

                …is what I should be thinking, but it’s not. We’re standing in the genkan now, having kicked the door to a close behind us, and he looks a hundred times more stunned than I feel. No, a thousand. Maybe it’s just that I completely calm.

                “Y-Yuuri…”

                This is only the third day since he arrived. Before that, we haven’t seen each other for a decade and half a century, respectively. Yet I never felt so confident about any decision in my life, and I make sure it shows in my eyes when I grin at him.

                Well, there goes my peaceful, boring life as an average, run-of-the-mill Japanese salaryman. Nah, I lost that the moment he found me outside the gay bar.

                No, the moment I met him on the steps of Blood Pledge Castle.

                There’s so much emotion in his bright emerald eyes I thought it would overflow, but before I know it his eyes are closed and barely an inch away from my face, our lips meeting for the first time since the day I said farewell to Shin Makoku.

                Back then he had taken me by surprise, and I hadn’t reacted until I was back on Earth, permanently. It’s something I’ve regretted since… and today I’m going to change that.

                His kiss is clumsy but agitated, as though he’s trying to put all that emotion into actions and tripping over himself instead. I put my hand on the back of his head gently, burying my fingers into his golden hair and guiding him with my mouth. Slower. Softer. Like this.

                Once he’s calmed down a bit, we explore each other carefully, shyly, getting to know this foreign part of each other when it’s seemed we’ve already known one another all our lives. Soon his movements grow more passionate, and the edge of uncertainty vanishes. He’s pretty talented at this.

                When we part, we’re both gasping for breath, cheeks flushed from the heat and lack of air. He wipes the saliva from the corners of his mouth with his thumb, his eyes dark with desire.

                Something has changed between us. Well, of course it has.

                “Yuuri…”

                His voice, hoarse and husky, sends a warm tingle down my spine—which is immediately doused by a cold breeze blowing in from the open door. Where Murata is standing, leaning on the door frame with a bemused expression.

                “Oh, don’t mind me. Carry on.”

                It really is very cold.

 

Murata was just here to check on me—on us, he said. He was sorry for missing my farewell at the company this morning, it was a stupid meeting, he said. That’s why he brought us supper and some beers to compensate… he said.

                Wolfram and I spend the rest of the night listening to what he said, drinking our beer wordlessly as he sat between us, one arm over my shoulder and the other hand raucously slapping Wolfram’s thigh as he laughed at his own cold joke.

                It’s the middle of winter. I add a heap of ice to my glass and drain all the contents in a gulp.

                “--!”

                I end up swallowing an ice cube. For a horrible second it got stuck in my throat, and I couldn’t breathe, then Murata claps me on the back, and instead of spitting it out, it slides right down.

                If you don’t know how that feels like, trust me, you don’t want to know. It feels like it’s still stuck halfway down my windpipe. It hurts to breathe.

                “Shibuya, something the matter? You look pale.”

                I shake my head, unable to find my voice. That’s the exact moment Wolfram decides enough is enough.

                “Well, look at the time. Yuuri will be reporting for his new job early in the morning, won’t you, Yuuri?”

                I manage to nod.

                “Ah, then you better get some sleep, huh.” Murata stands up, pats down his trousers, and heads for the door. “I’ll see myself out. After all, you guys still need to spread out the new futon, right?”

                I almost cough out the ice cube again.

                “You shouldn’t drink ice on a cold night like this, Shibuya. Go easy on him, Lord von Bielefeld.”

                Wolfram pats my back with more force than he intended to, glaring at Murata. I think my heart may have stopped for a split second there. “Just Bielefeld from now on, Your Eminence. I left my country behind, and my name with it.”

               That’s not all he left behind. A silence falls over us, Murata looking at us with that sad, knowing look he has so often, until I glare at him too. Something passes between us, something Wolfram doesn’t catch as he looks between us confusedly, then Murata laughs, holds up his hand in goodbye, and finally, _finally_ leaves. Credit where credit is due, he even locks the door behind him.

               

“So…”   

                Wolfram and I stare at the futon spread out in front of us. I’m wearing proper pajamas since it’s winter, trying not to feel like a kid, while Wolfram is wearing the nightdress he found, to his immense delight, at the store. It was more for nostalgia’s sake than anything, a simple cotton nightdress that I suppose foreigner guys do wear to sleep… I guess. I could see that’s what the saleslady was hoping too.

                “Anyway…”

                I suppress a yawn, and Wolfram looks instantly torn. He’s obviously hoping for a continuation of what Murata had interrupted. To be honest, so am I. But it’s already three a.m. and I have to report to Shouri by eight. And besides…

                “Wolf... I hate to ask, but could you wait a while? Until… right, until Friday?”

                “Friday?” A pause, as first he figures out that Friday is the end of the week and three days away, then as he wonders why specifically Friday. After all that, he agrees anyway. “So now…”

                We sleep.

                My innards still feel cold from all that beer and ice, though. When instinctively I stretch out towards him, I find that the blankets and borders between us these past few nights are finally gone, and curl onto his back like a contented cat.

                He can’t really use his majutsu here the same way he can’t on human lands back there, but that doesn’t mean his maryoku is gone. I can still feel the power inside him, burning as fiercely as his personality.

                Mm—Maybe that’s what makes him so warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as per RedGlassesGirl's request, I... think... I'll be trying... some... smut...ish... thing... next chapter. Yeah. I had to freaking give this kiss scene to an impartial friend to critique before I could bring myself to post it how da hell do I do smut aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAA--
> 
> Also, so much for standalone chapters.


	5. Forever Mine, that Distance Closed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time we threw away all the barriers between us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longest chapter yet, because... you know.

The next morning, I wake up at seven, only to find that he hasn’t slept at all.

                “How could I, with you—you—pressed against my back like that!?”

                I blink at him blearily. He’s frying eggs with a vengeance, tossing them as though he wishes they would fly through the ceiling and into oblivion. Did he learn that from Adalbert, too?

                I don’t know the exact details, but from little bits and pieces he lets slip now and then, it seems he received some… domestic training in between his responsibilities when people heard that his ultimate aim was, well, me. I’m sure Gwendal had a hand in his sewing training, for one, but it seems Anissina stepped in before it was too late. Thank goodness for that, too.

                Still, it’s strange to see him do the chores. I squeeze past him to reach the upper cabinets. “Coffee, or tea?” I only have the instant stuff, and he’s still experimenting with both. At least he doesn’t find them too unpleasant to his fine aristocratic tongue. I stared at his face really hard to make sure he wasn’t lying, too.

                “Coffee. A lot of it.” He sounds like my dad in the morning already. He _looks_ like my dad in the morning when we settle down for breakfast. As in, his hair is a mess and he didn’t shave very cleanly. I can’t stop staring.

                “Yuuri… We have to talk.”

                Uh-oh. Those forbidden words wake me up from my trance. But darn, he’s definitely going to age gracefully…

                “Yuuri!”

                “Y-yes!” I sit up straight in my chair. “What do you want to talk about?”

                He runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Look, this stuff has been keeping me up all night, and if I don’t deal with it I won’t make it until Friday—”

                “Ah, I see.” I nod understandingly at the bathroom. “Do you want me to help you?”

               “Of course, that’s what I’m as—” His voice is cut off in a strangling noise. Add that to the way he turns beetroot red, it really looks like he’s either choking or burst a blood vessel.

                “So, uh… That’s not what you meant?”

                “No! _No_ , that’s exactly what I meant!” He jabs a finger in my face angrily. “You talk like you’re so experienced, and you—you act like it, too!”

                I act like it? But we didn’t even do anything yesterday… “Wait, you mean the kiss? It’s not like I have a ton of experience or anything—” Something occurs to me. “Don’t tell me that was your first kiss!?”

                “Of course not! …It’s my second, the first time was when you left.”

                I actually have to stop and hold my head. “So… So you’re saying you never did _that_ before, either? How old are you again?”

                “One hundred and forty-eight, but don’t change the subject! Shibuya Yuuri, are you saying that you—with other people, you—”

                To my horror, I think I see tears glistening in his eyes. He blinks them away furiously, his face turning from red to white to red again. “Was it… Was it with Mu—”

                “Whoa whoa whoa!” I quickly clasp my hands over his mouth, lest he speak the unspeakable. “Why would you even _think_ that!?”

                His eyes look at me wistfully, like a puppy that’s been left for too long in the house, and he mumbles something about ‘yesterday’ into my palm. His hot breath tickles my skin, and I have to look away to hide the heat rising up my neck.

                Yesterday… Oh, when Murata and I exchanged glances, and he went off laughing.

                Wolfram pulls away my hands, almost pouting. “He guessed that I’m a… that I’m new to all this, didn’t he? Was that why he was laughing at me?”

                “No, I’m sure he wasn’t laughing at you.” Though I won’t be surprised if he guessed… “He was laughing at me.”

                “What, for drinking ice in the winter?”

                I’m lucky I don’t have a cold now. No, I think as I sidle up closer to Wolf and snuggle him from behind. It’s because he’s so warm.

                “Y-Yuuri! Don’t think you can get out of answering!”

                “It’s because he was looking at you—us so sadly, like he pitied us.” I bury my face into the back of Wolfram’s neck, edging past his collar. “I got mad, and I glared at him to tell him, ‘Don’t be. We’re happy.’”

                His skin got ever hotter to the touch, and I resist the urge to sigh out loud. If he realized I realized he was blushing, he’d push me aside in an instant. Instead, he tries to change the subject. “Alright then, putting aside how you two know each other so well you can communicate without words, what’s the deal with Friday? Why Friday?”

                “Because we have Saturday off, and everyone will have more time.”

                “What does ‘everyone’ have to do with it?”

                Ah, well, I had hoped to keep this a surprise, but I’ve never been good at those, and to be honest, it’s a hassle. Everything would go much smoother if I clued him in. And—Well, some things should be done together.

                I turn him around by the shoulders, look him in the eyes and say, with all the seriousness in the world,

                “Wolf, let’s get married this Friday.”

 

I said ‘marriage’, but all we really did was go to the district office and sign a civil union certificate. Even these weren’t available in our area until recently, when Shouri took over the governor post. I refuse to acknowledge the possibility that he campaigned so hard for it because he anticipated that his little brother would get one someday.

                “So… That’s it?”

                Wolfram and I hold one end of the thin sheet of paper each, staring at the rows of printed ink. Half a lifetime of promises, and it culminates in… this.

                Is he disappointed? Marriages here could be huge events if you wanted it, or they could be a quiet signing in a district office, too. And what we have… can’t even be called a ‘marriage’, not yet, at any rate. I have this sudden image of Lady Cheri coming after me with her whip and screaming that I’ve let her baby down. Compared to the fiasco her last wedding was, this is like as normal as waking up in the morning and brushing your teeth.

                “Yeah—I mean, that’s it for now,” I say hurriedly, “because Pops still has work tomorrow and my mom didn’t have enough time to prepare. She’s blowing a right fuse over it, don’t worry, and once we’ve settled down properly with the new jobs and your school and all, I’m sure she’ll have a ceremony to end all ceremonies, lasting three days and nights and all that—”

                Wolfram takes the certificate away from me, folding it up carefully and keeping it in the pocket right over his chest. Then he throws his arms around me and kisses me softly.

                “Just like that, no one can say anything about whatever we want to do?”

                I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Wolf, I know that this place is different… But I don’t want you to change yourself to fit in.” This is what I’ve always wanted to say. “You never used to care what anybody says. I—I guess I did, but that’s before I accepted you. And the you I accepted is the one who doesn’t care about—about anybody but me.”

                We’re still in the district office, but everyone’s too busy in their own happiness to pay us any attention. I sort of wish they _were_ watching, just so I could make my point.

                But he gets it anyway, his face splitting into a smile so bright I’m blinded, yet I can’t bring myself to look away. “Just like that, you’re all mine. At last.”

                “Yeah. And you’re mine.”

                “Those human hussies may have gotten your first time, but I’m taking your last.”

                “…I hope my last time will be a long way away.” I think that killed the romantic mood a bit.

                “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be adorable even when you’re five hundred.”

                No, I definitely won’t. And what do you plan to do with me when I’m five hundred!?

                I swallow. I think I may have married a monster.

 

He’s at my buttons before we get past the door.

                I struggle to lock it with one hand – I learned my lesson there – while fighting him off with the other. It feels like he’s trying to chew off my collarbone.

                His eyes are already narrowed with desire, and reduce to just emerald slits when he feels my resistance. I clear my throat and gesture awkwardly at the bedroom.

               So he picks me up bridal-style, and then throws me over his shoulder in order to get to the futon as fast as possible. I flail for a second on instinct before realizing it’s in my own best interests to stay still and go meekly.

                My back hits the futon a bit harder than normal, and in no time at all he’s ripped my shirt open, running his fingers and then his lips all over my chest. I clamp my mouth shut so as not to admit defeat, but my body responds in spite of my will, arcing for his touch.

                Then his fingers reach my waist, and freeze. Yes! This is the chance I’ve been waiting for.

                Taking advantage of his moment’s daze, I pull him down and sit firmly on his waist, pulling off his shirt without bothering to be gentle, all the way cackling to myself inwardly.

                Hehe… It’s so rare for me to be more experienced than him in anything, though it’s probably not something to be proud of. In any case—

                “Tonight I’ll be the one to teach you for once.”

                He puts up a short protest, but melts as soon as I lick his nipple. Just like me, he tries not to make a sound, but I loosen his stubborn mouth with mine, and when we move apart, he finally moans out loud.

                The sound takes him completely by surprise, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet. While his guard is down, I grab the lube we bought in advance and fumble a bit before applying it generously to my fingers. It’s cold to the touch, and probably even colder for him when I try to put it in.

                “…!”

                He clamps down hard on me, biting his lip and glaring daggers. I try to act as though I know what I’m doing, nibbling playfully on his ear and whispering soothing nothings until he finally concedes, relaxing so I can gradually put in one more finger. A pause, until he stops squirming. Then another.

                He’s tight when eventually I enter him, tight and hotter than anything I’ve ever felt. For a while we just freeze there, overwhelmed by the all-new level of closeness we’ve achieved. He’s the first to move, fidgeting uncomfortably and – I’m sure it’s not my imagination—a bit impatiently. His heat reaches up my body all the way to the back of my head, my ears ringing as I move. Even my vision is blurred at the sides—he’s all I can see, all I hear, all I feel. We fill each other up, until there’s no space left for anyone, or anything else.

                I last a bit longer than he does, but not by much. Heh. So much for experience.

                It doesn’t feel like winter anymore, here in this room. His body is even hotter than usual after our little exercise, and I cuddle up to him contentedly, rubbing my cheek against his chest. It’s smooth, and hard, but I wouldn’t trade it for all the teddy bears in Gwen’s warehouse.

                He seems a little unhappy, though.

                “…What’s the matter?” After much deliberation, I ask the question reluctantly. There’s a high chance his answer will ruin the moment, so I savored it for as long as I could before taking the risk. In the end, I just can’t stay in this bliss alone, while knowing his memory of this night could be scarred forever.

                “It’s nothing.” He pulls me into a tight hug, turning his frustration into arm strength and punishing me for it in his roundabout way. “Yuuri, I love you so much I don’t know what to do. You know that, right?”

                “Of course I do. I feel the same way.” I push his arms aside gently, so I can look at his face. “So tell me, what’s the problem? You didn’t like it? It didn’t feel good?”

                “No, no! It felt great.” His cheeks burn just to say that, almost glowing in the dark. “It’s just… How about you, Yuuri? Did… did it feel good for you?”

                I’m surprised he has to ask. And here I thought everyone could read how I felt, so he of all people should know without even looking, much less asking. “Of course.”

                “…Better than anyone else?”

                Ah. I scratch my head, wondering how to answer that. He sees my hesitation, and the temperature in the room plummets drastically.

                “W-wait, that’s not what I meant! I mean, you’re asking me to compare and—”

                It’s starting to get so cold I shudder in spite of myself.

                “No! I mean, it was my first time—”

                “Liar.”

                “—my first time like that.” I scratch my ear awkwardly. “My first time with a guy. I was worried I wouldn’t get it right.”

                “No way!” The heat is back in his cheeks again, and I can feel his heart beat harder in his chest. Such a soothing, steady sound, so much so that I almost got lost in it and miss his next words. “But—But you’re so good at it! How did you know what to do!?”

                Well, I’ll take that compliment. Grinning from ear to ear, I reply, “Reading books, searching online, you know. The regular ways.”

                “I did all that too! I even asked Gurrier for tips!” Phew, that was a close call. “It’s not fair!”

                He shoves me away and crosses his arms in front of his chest, huffing. “I only let you take charge because I thought you knew something I didn’t.”

                But face it, he’s glad I’m at least new to this part, just like him. I pull his arms apart and wrap mine around his back, pecking his pouting lips.

                “Thanks for giving me your first time. Next time, you can have mine, alright?”

                “…Promise? I might hurt you.”

                “Did I hurt you?”

                “…A little.”

                “Uwaa, really!? Why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

                He finally laughs again, flicking my forehead.

                “Ow! What was that for?”

                “If I say the next time I’m getting you back for all of it, will you still promise to let me top?”

                “Gulp—Ah, ow, ow, okay, okay, I promise, stop squeezing me so hard!”

                Whatever, we have all our lives to practice with, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goals achieved~ I wonder if this is OOC, though, haha //are you never satisfied
> 
> Well this is a milestone in my life, ahahaha... Please tell me what you think, what I can improve on etc //bows
> 
> Also, if I wanna continue this anymore... There's still meeting the family =w= There's a reason why they haven't yet, sort of, which may be explained in the future...? In any case I'll be missing for at least a few days, thanks for following this story!


	6. Golden Time, Those who Light the Way Forth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's easy to forget that he's not from this world. At other times... it's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again~

Settling down at my new job is taking both a longer and shorter time than I thought. I know everyone in my department now, but I’m still not too sure what I’m supposed to be doing.

                Somehow, that makes it especially exhausting.

                “I’m home…” I pull my tie and toss my shoes into the genkan, sighing. Heh, I’ve been working for years now but the picture of the stereotypical working man just doesn’t feel complete without a wi—partner to greet me.

                “Welcome back.” Wolfram calls from the kitchenette, over the sizzling sounds and mouth-watering aromas. He’s still learning how to deal with Earthly ingredients, and sometimes even I get to put in a word of advice here and there, but I never disliked anything Wolf made for me. Maybe I’m just not picky. Murata would call it the power of love.

                “Hey, isn’t it my turn to cook?” I hug him from behind as he pours the stir-fried vegetables into a dish. “I’m not late this time, am I?” The last time I was supposed to cook, Shouri kept me back ten minutes, and Wolfram had been all about done with the cooking by the time I got back.

                “No, but I bet you worked extra hard to make sure you’re early. Look in the mirror, Yuuri. You’re exhausted.” He flicks me on the forehead before picking up the plates and moving to the dining table a few steps away. Which reminds me—

                “We need a bigger house…”

                “Not immediately. If that’s why you’re working so hard, don’t. I don’t remember you being this hardworking in Shin Makoku.”

                I smile a little bitterly. “You don’t get it, Wolf. This is how people work here. You’re only working well if you’re working hard.”

                “Hmph. I don’t see your brother or Murata working themselves to the bone, not if they still have the time to come bother us.”

                I take a few deep breaths. “Wolfram, what are you mad about? I’m tired, and—”

                “There’s your answer.”

                “Huh?”

                Another problem about having such a small table—Wolfram bends over it and is instantly in my face. His lips melt into mine, as though trying to suck the weariness away, leaving me dazed and helpless when we pull apart. Taking advantage of my momentary weakness, his fingers explore the bags underneath my eyes, the lines on my brow, and then he rests his forehead on mine, our breaths mingling.

                “Sometimes I wish you had been happy without me. I just assumed that you would be fine in your own world, where you were born and raised. To think that this world could be even crueler to you than the other one…”

                “It’s not that bad, really!” I say hastily. “In this world, you can live however you like as long as you work hard enough for it—”

                “Is that really true?”

                “It is.” My voice surprises even me in its firmness. “I didn’t work hard enough in the past, because I didn’t know what I was working for. I’m just paying for it now, but it’ll get better, I’m sure of it. And then—” I lace my fingers with his and kiss his nose lightly. It’s a little oily, probably from when he was frying the tempura. “—We can have everything we want. Let me guess, you want to travel the world, don’t you?”

                “…I _am_ curious how it feels to fly in an airplane.”

                “You can’t really feel anything,” I try to think back on my one experience going overseas. “Wait, sometimes your ears hurt when you’re going up or coming down—Hey, don’t laugh!”

                “Haha… Oh, Yuuri. You haven’t changed in the slightest over ten years.”

                “…I feel a little insulted…”

 

I’m halfway through my rice when something occurs to me.

                “Wolf, when did you get home?”

                “Hm? About two, I guess. I came back straight after classes ended.”

                “Don’t tell me… Wolf, do you have any friends at school? If you’re being bullied, or if anyone’s taking your stuff or saying bad things about you, you have to tell—”

                “No, they’re all very nice. Sometimes they even line up to talk to me.”

                “It’s okay if you’re not popular, you don’t have to lie to make me feel better--”

                “Yuuri, are you suggesting that I can’t handle a bunch of human brats?”

                “Not when you talk like that… But if they like you so much, why don’t they invite you to go out with them after school?”

                “They do, I just turn them down.”

                “Huh!? Why!?”

                “Because I want to get home to you, of course.”

                “Wolf… Are you an idiot? Social connections are your lifelines in society!”

                “Murata says you can count your friends on one hand.”

                “…You can learn a lot of things when you talk to more people! What do you talk about, anyway?”

                “You.”

                “……”

                “That reminds me, they said they wanted to meet you.”

               

The next day I find myself at the gate of Wolfram’s community college at half past one.

                “Yuuri? What are you doing here?”

                I swallow down the lump in my throat. Watching him approach the gate had brought back all sorts of bad memories from high school. He wasn’t lying, after all—people surrounded him on both sides, cute girls and cheerful guys, and he was laughing and chatting with them like he belonged. It’s definitely the popular group that didn’t even look at me when they passed me in the corridors.

                Now they’re looking at me, all right. All those young people, looking at me like the strange uncle who loiters around primary schools. I pull up the collar of my coat, torn between running away and pulling out the candy in my pockets.

                “Yuuri!” Wolfram makes the decision for me, running up to me and taking both my hands in his. “Don’t you have work today? Did something happen?”

                “I—I took half the day off. Because you said your friends wanted to meet me…” Boy, do I regret it now, though. I can already see the confusion on their faces turning to disappointment the moment he introduces me.

                One of the girls ventures, “Wolfram, who’s--?”

                “Can’t you tell?” Wolfram frowns a little at her. “This is Yuuri, my partner. I told you so much about him, Sayoko.”

                “W-Wolf, you shouldn’t call her name directly—”

                “Why? She was the one who asked me to call her that.” Wolfram pulls my hand. “Since you have half the day off, let’s go somewhere for afternoon tea. There’s this ramen place I wanted to bring you to, except it closes before you get off from work.”

                “S-sure. Is everyone coming along?”

                And so I doomed myself to the most awkward bowl of ramen I ever had in my life.

 

It was another bad flashback from high school—those horrible, horrible group dates Murata pulled me into sometimes, except this time I actually wanted to talk to everyone, but everyone wanted to talk to Wolfram, and Wolfram only seemed to be interested in talking to me.

                “So—uh, thank you all for taking care of Wolfram thus far, a-haha. He must be a pain to deal with, huh?”

                “Oh, no, no! He’s nice to everyone, and—”

                “Yuuri, have this fishcake. Does it taste good? Do you think we could buy or make it?”

                “Wolfram, I’m talking to— Mmgh!”

                “Don’t talk with your mouth full, you’ll choke.”

                “Shibuya-san! Somebody, get hel—”

                “See? I told you so.” He circles around me and hugs me so tightly I’m sure my ribs cracked. The fishcake almost goes up my nose, but thankfully slides down my throat instead. Now I’m feeling bruised on the outside and inside too. “Hold on, I’ll get you another cup of tea.”

                And he storms off.

                “M-Maybe he just doesn’t like going to places like this…?”

              Despite myself, I chuckle a little, though my voice comes out sounding like sandpaper on metal. “Sayoko-chan, right? Don’t think so well of him, they didn’t call him Little Lord Brat for nothing.”

                The poor girl looks even more confused now. “Wolfram? Brat? Who would be so mean?”

                “Only his brothers, all his family, and the entire country.” Ah, how nostalgic. “He was famous for being stubborn.”

                “I can’t imagine,” murmurs one young man. “Well, not until today.”

                “Oh yeah, he did say he met Shibuya-san in another country,” another girl chips in.

                “When did you guys meet? How?”

                “Is it true that you’re like childhood friends?”

                “Ooh, how was he like as a child? I bet he was adorable--!”

                “Oh, he was,” I laugh. “I couldn’t stop thinking how beautiful he was, even though he was mad at me the first time we met, and then he insulted my mother.”

                “He did what!?”

                “No way…”

                “But that was a long time ago, right? He seems a lot more mature now—”

                “It’s just an act for people he doesn’t really care about,” says one boy wryly. “Haven’t you seen how he acts like a teenager around Shibuya-san?”

                This guy… Ueda, I think his name was. There was something familiar about his tone and the twinkle in his eyes, a bit shrewd but not altogether unpleasant. He and Wolfram might just get along.

                “Oh, yeah!” Sayoko jumps in suddenly. “Shibuya-san, how old is Wolfram exactly? He would never tell us!”

                That’s because you wouldn’t believe him. “He’s the same age as me.” More or less.

                “No way--! Ah, I didn’t mean that Shibuya-san looks old or worn like my father, I just—I—”

                Sayoko makes it worse the more she tries to fix it, and the next thing we know she’s reaching over the table to pat my shoulder or back or maybe even my head. The moment she touches me, I’m suddenly yanked away with so much force it feels like my arm is getting pulled out of its socket. Sayoko’s face, just inches away before, is frozen in shock even as Wolfram drags me further and further away from her and everyone else at the table.

                His face, on the other hand, is so livid I don’t even dare to look at him as I pay for the meal at the counter. He looks about ready to dump the tab on his classmates, holding back only because I promised, and he knows how much I hate breaking my promises. It’s a matter of principles.

                 The only one who tries to catch up to us before we leave out the door is Ueda, who looks like he trampled over his friends to get here.

                “Sh-Shibuya-san! Wait!”

                Wolfram’s grip on my wrist tightens. Is it too much to hope that an average Japanese life will eventually wear out his crazy strength? It feels like he spent those fifty years training with weights.

                “Shibuya-san, Sayoko didn’t mean that. I think what she was trying to say—what we all thought, is that Shibuya-san is surprisingly reliable.”

                “Eh?” No one’s ever called me that before, not even my own family.

                “You don’t think so?”

                “That’s kind of you, but I know I’m just some deadbeat—”

                “Maybe you are,” he agrees so readily that my face twitches, and even Wolfram has to hold back a laugh. “In work, or with your friends, you do look like you’d be the least outstanding person, the one who always sits at the back of the room and stares at the field outside the window.”

                This guy is… perceptive, and a bit too blunt.

                “But when you’re with Wolfram,” he cocks his head, “You’re different. Both of you. It’s rather fascinating, really. Wolfram acts more childishly, and Shibuya-san feels more reliable. I wonder…

                “Is this what it means to be an old couple?”

 

“An old couple, huh…”

                I’m still thinking about it as we walk home, hand in hand, the remnants of the snow crunching under our feet. “That was a very… fruitful meeting.”

                “I knew it, I’m never letting you see them ever again.”

                “Eh, why!?”

                Wolfram scowls, his face red against the cold. The heat from his ungloved hand trickles up my arm and into my chest. “They were all so interested in you, and kept asking to meet you. Now that they’ve met you, there’s no way they’re going to leave us in peace.”

                “You’re right…” Now that they know what they’re going up against, they must feel more confident in prying Wolfram out of my evil hands.

                “Now that they know how wonderful you are, they’re only going to fall more and more in love with you.”

                “…Eh?”

                “Especially that Sayoko, you should see the way her eyes light up whenever I describe you to her, and she already tried to touch you—”

                Wolf, I think the one she likes is you. It’s only normal that she’d be happy when you talk to her, even if you’re talking about me—or maybe it’s not normal? Do girls usually enjoy listening to the guy they like talking about his husband? As for the touching…

                “She was only trying to apologize for calling me old.”

                “Nonsense. You haven’t aged a day since we met.”

                Now you’re just lying through your teeth. “Wolf, do you really act that differently around them normally? Or have you hypnotized them into liking you?”

                “I can’t use maryoku here, remember? And even if I could, I don’t have Anissina’s tools.” Wolfram flicks my forehead again. It’s becoming a habit. “Don’t underestimate me, Yuuri. We aristocrats have many ways to deal with kids like that.”

                Come to think of it, I do remember someone saying that Wolfram was very good at socializing with the other young nobles. As expected of court politics. But—“You don’t have to worry about positions and having them like you for the sake of your family anymore, you know? This is your once-in-a-lifetime college life, just act normal and enjoy yourself.”

                “…But if I act like I normally do, I won’t have a lot of friends, y’know? Not that I mind, of course, but I don’t want you to worry.”

                I throw my arm around his neck and rub his hair, grinning wide. “Don’t be silly, I’m okay as long as you’re happy. And besides, I think that Ueda-kun likes you as you are.”

                “He’s decent, I guess. But he has nothing on you, Yuuri, so don’t go getting jealous now.”

                “Whoever said I’m jealous?”

                Emerald eyes narrow dangerously. “You’re not?”

                “… maybe just a little…”

                It just occurred to me that Wolfram hasn’t had a school life, with friends his age, spending every day learning all he can, fooling around during the breaks with no other worries in the world. No matter what I say, or what anyone else says about school life, the fact remains that it’s usually a golden part of any person’s life, one you look back to fondly when you’re already working.

                Well, since Wolfram gave up so much for me, the least I could do is protect this golden time for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the whole premise of this chapter was supposed to be collegeWolfram and uncleYuuri hahaha... So don't ask me where that first part about working habits and realities came from. Not everyone will agree with what Yuuri said -- heck, I'm not sure if I do, but that just feels like something Yuuri would believe it =w=


	7. Bearbees, The Things We Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving on doesn't mean leaving your past behind. Some things can be brought along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Wolfram Week event~ So this chapter is written in Wolfram's limited third person point of view //speak English please

“Studying World History does not mean forgetting where you came from.”

                Wolfram’s pen pauses for a moment above his notes.

                “That’s why, your assignment this week will be to present on your origins. Use everything that you have learned so far, look at your home country with a professional eye. Go through its history, its present state, its culture, society, its places and its people. Choose one object or symbol that you think represents it. It could be a person, a place, an object--”

                The lecturer’s eye and grin rests on Wong, who scowls widely at him. “An animal--” he continues, “—an event, a date, a name…”

                “Yeah, yeah, I think we get the drift.” Ueda puts his hands behind his head and props his chair on its hind legs. “So, Bielefeld, what is it back home that you‘re running away so hard from?”

                Wolfram’s fair hand continues to glide smoothly over his notepad. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

                “You stopped writing for two whole seconds just now, pal. Admit it, you were thrown.”

                “I didn’t run away from anything.” Wolfram closes his notebook with a snap as the lecturer concludes his class. “I ran towards something. Someone.”

                “Shibuya-san again, huh?” Ueda rocks back and forth on his chair, balancing a pencil on his nose. Sometimes Wolfram admires his dexterity – decent for a human—and sometimes he just wants to see his first new friend in this world fall hard. “He must be tougher than he looks.”

                “More than you know, but why do you say so?”

                “Because a man has to be tough to withstand that much commitment. Have you ever asked him if he _wanted_ you to leave your home to be with him?”

                Have I? Wolfram doesn’t even realize that he’s shaking his head until Ueda whistles.

                “You might wanna try that. When you do something that big without asking him first… Man, if I were him, I’d be totally stressed out.”

                Is Yuuri stressed out? Is that why he seems more tired than usual lately?

                …Am I stressing Yuuri out, by being here?

 

“…so Shouri said Mom wanted to see us back home at least once before we go outstation for the first time, and I bet she has our wedding suits all ready for the moment we step through that door—Wolf? Wolf, are you listening?”

                “Hm? Yeah, I’m listening.” Wolfram twirls his pen listlessly, staring at the blank page. Yuuri had gotten him a laptop, but he still feels better handling something familiar. At least he knows what paper is made of.

                “Problems with homework?”

                “Yeah. I have to do something about home.” He shakes his head. “No, I meant… This is my home now. But I need to do a presentation about something that represents-- my birthplace. Where I came from.”

                “Ah, I see your problem.” Yuuri laughs, sitting down next to Wolfram. “It’s going to be hard explaining Shin Makoku to your lecturer, huh?”

                Wolfram watches him carefully. “Yuuri—” _Do you want to talk about Shin Makoku?_ “—What do you remember about it? The other world.”

                “Not a lot, really.” No matter how hard Wolfram looks, he can’t see any hint of darkness in Yuuri’s bright black eyes when they’re talking about that place. “Like I said, it feels like a dream.”

                “Really?” Wolfram tries to keep his voice level. “Even though you spent so much time there, and we went through so much together?”

                “Maybe it was just too good to be true. A place where I belonged, people who liked me, and needed me… After some time I just couldn’t believe all that was real. And yet, I couldn’t forget about it even if I tried.”

                Did you try? Wolfram remembers what Shouri told him once, away from Yuuri’s ears, and thinks that he knows the answer. So he doesn’t ask. “If you didn’t forget, what do you remember?”

                “You,” he chuckles, and the cloud is gone from his expression. When he talks about that time, there’s nothing but fond nostalgia. It’s when he talks about what happened after that, that things seem not quite right. Shouri was wrong. “I never thought I would miss your snoring, or you kicking me out of bed.”

                Wolfram knocks him in the side. “Is that why we’re sleeping on the floor now?”

                “Maybe. I remember Conrad, too. Günter, Gwendal, Anissina… Greta.” Yuuri pauses. “How is she?”

                “Her last words to me were, ‘Just go already.’”

                “I see.” Yuuri closes his eyes, and smiles. “It sounds like she grew up well.”

                “She did. You would be proud of her.”

                “I already am. Anyway, I’m not helping you, am I? You said you needed something to represent Shin Makoku?”

                “Something, someone, someplace, sometime. And no, no boxes.”

                “How did you— Ahem, if it’s a person, then—”

                “Yuuri, nobody in my class knows about Shin Makoku, or anyone in it. Even if I brought you to class and introduced you as the 27th Maou, no one will believe me.”

                “Me? But I meant—Oh. Yeah. It won’t work, huh?” When Yuuri thinks hard like this, Wolfram can see a little wrinkle forming around his eyes. “If they don’t know the history, it’d be more meaningful if we could choose something concrete. Like an object or…”

                “An animal,” Wolfram recalls. “The Chinese student was annoyed because she hates pandas.”

                “Eh, why? They’re so cute! Of course, they’re still not as cute as the—”

                It hits them at the same time.

                “The bearbees!”

                “Oh, wow, I remember them!” Yuuri’s eyes are sparkling, and Wolfram nearly loses himself in them. It’s been a while since he saw his partner so purely happy. “How were they doing? Did they come back to Blood Pledge Castle?”

                “Y-yeah. In fact, the East Wing had been sanctioned off as a protected breeding site, and still tourists come to town during mating season every year to watch the bearbees come and go. We make a killing on selling the paint, too.”

                “Right, the paint…” Too late, Wolfram remembers Yuuri never understood the beauty of bearbee-produced paints, but though the memory of the smell makes Yuuri’s eye twitch, the wonderful mood is still intact. “You could do that! Talk about the bearbees, and—and make it sound like some exotic animal only citizens know! Either that, or you could say they’ve gone extinct…”

                “No, I’ll just say outsiders rarely see them,” Wolfram replies quickly. He’s not usually superstitious, but now that both he and Yuuri aren’t around to watch over them anymore, he would rather their children have all the luck they can get. “For the presentation, I could draw a portrait.”

                “Y-you’re going to draw?”

                “I’ll draw them realistically, of course.” Which reminds him. “We studied world art that day, do you think we could get one of those Picasso paintings one day?”

                He knows it costs a lot, but he’s still a bit unsure about the value of things here. Surely the lecturer was kidding when he said any one of those paintings could buy this whole apartment?

                “I knew you would like him!” Yuuri laughs, throwing his arm around Wolfram’s shoulder and planting a loud kiss on his cheek. “Alright, we have a new goal! To earn enough money and buy you a Picasso!”

                Yuuri doesn’t mention how long that would take, and Wolfram doesn’t ask Ueda’s question. It’s a silly question, anyway.

                When Yuuri’s lips move to his, and the kisses continue, silent but deepening, Wolfram is confident that he doesn’t stress Yuuri out. Quite the contrary.

 

At first Wolfram blames the paint. Then he faults the paper.

                Within an hour he decides that he simply can’t paint a bearbee without bearbee paint.

                By the end of the day, he realizes that he could never have contented himself with a two-dimensional painting to begin with.

                When Yuuri comes home the next day after the assignment topic was announced, he finds Wolfram bent over the table, straining his eyes out at a tiny needle and even tinier thread, while scraps of felt and fabric are scattered on the table and all over the floor.

                Yuuri smiles to himself and heads straight for the kitchen, dropping a kiss on the top of Wolfram’s head as he passes by. Wolfram doesn’t even look up.

                For the next few days Wolfram relives all of Anissina’s sewing lessons, while steadfastly keeping Gwendal’s advice out of his head.  His fingers are a little stiff and his joints slightly rusty, but he gets the hang of it soon enough. The only problem is that it has to be perfect.

                “Wolf, that’s very cute already, you don’t have to—”

                “No!” Wolfram tears out the last couple of stitches and breaks the thread with his teeth. “Yuuri, this is the bearbees’ debut on Earth! I’m introducing them to the world, don’t you get it? We have to make a good first impression!”

                “I-is this like the park debut my mom keeps talking about? The one where you bring your baby to the park for the first time and introduce yourself to the other moms…”

                That catches Wolfram’s attention. “Baby? What baby? Yuuri, don’t tell me you—”

                “No, no! The baby is me! I-I mean, my mom wouldn’t shut up about my park debut, and it’s so embarrassing…”

                “Tell me about it after I finish this part.”

                “What? No! No way!”

                “Okay, then, I’ll just ask Mom when we meet her later. Shouri said she wanted to see us, right?”

                “I thought you weren’t listening…”

                “I told you, I was. I always listen to whatever you’re saying. And you’re right.”

                “Eh? I was? About what?”

                “This is our babies’ park debut.”

                Wolfram holds up the completed plushie, tired but triumphant. It’s a historic moment, so Yuuri dutifully documents it with his phone camera, and is so pleased with how the picture turned out that he decides to share it on his long-neglected Twitter account.

                And just like that, the bearbee makes its international debut.

 

“The country I came from… has a long history. Of peace, but mostly of war.

                “We were too busy fighting those who were different from us that we neglected the beauty of our own land for far too long. It took an outsider’s eye to remind us of that, and of the fact that maybe our enemies aren’t as different from us as we thought.”

                Wolfram holds up the adorable bearbee doll, continuing in all seriousness, “This is a rare animal found only in my country, called the bearbee. Its signature sound is ‘nogisu!’ and its feces make high quality paint.”

                Ueda is still laughing when they go to the cafeteria for lunch. “Geez, Bielefeld, how could you say all that with a straight face?”

                “Why not? It’s the truth.” Wolfram twirls his spaghetti around the fork, puts it neatly into his mouth, chews and swallows, making sure his mouth is empty before he says, “It’s rude to stare, Ueda-kun.”

                “Huh? Oh, right, sorry.” Ueda doesn’t look or sound apologetic in the slightest, though. Instead, he puts down his fork and studies Wolfram like a fascinating piece of ancient text. “Tell me, Bielefeld, were you a prince or an aristocrat? You’re just so damn graceful sometimes.”

                Sometimes? “I was a soldier, first and foremost.”

                “That’s not a no, though. So you do have some blue blood in you.” Ueda’s mind is running a million miles an hour. “A noble, huh? If I remember correctly, nobility was abolished in Germany before World War II—”

                “Germany?” Wolfram frowns.

                “Oh, come on! I don’t know why you make it a point to never mention the name of your home country – not even in your presentation, really—but it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? For one, your name is obviously German.”

                Is it? Wolfram is starting to get interested in this Germany place.

                “And two, it’s clearly written in your passport.”

                Does he mean the fake documents Shouri obtained for Wolfram? The words on them are still a bit of a stretch for Wolfram’s reading skills, so he didn’t bother reading them. “But wait a second, I never showed you my passport.”

                Ueda just looks at the ceiling, whistling. This man… Wolfram’s emerald eyes narrow. It seems like his coursemate is looking at him like a puzzle, a mystery to solve. And yet, he doesn’t feel offended. Instead, he feels a rush of adrenaline he hasn’t felt since coming to this world-- the thrill of a challenge.

                So you want to uncover my secrets, do you? Very well, I’d like to see you try.

                “Just so you know, everything I said about the bearbees is true.”

                “You’re lying.”

                “Do I look like I’m joking?” There is amusement in those eyes, though. “Look at this likeness. I made sure it was one hundred percent accurate as I was making it. Isn’t it adorable?”

                “W-Wait, _you_ made this!?”

                The utter shock on Ueda’s face is both gratifying and insulting. “So? It wasn’t that hard. It’s cute, right? I haven’t seen an animal in this world as cute as the bearbee. Here, I’ll show you.”

                Before Ueda can say anything, Wolfram takes out his notebook, tears out a page and start sketching with his 2B pencil. His movements are quick, but the short time he took is already long enough to draw a small crowd.

                “Wow…”

                “So cute!”

                “Can I take a picture?”

                “You’re good at this,” Ueda says, peeking over his shoulder. “You know what, you should put this on the Internet. Do you have a Twitter account? I’ll help you set one up, then you just upload it like this—”

                Wolfram stares rather helplessly at the way Ueda’s fingers fly across his phone’s screen, and all the girls who had gathered to admire his sketch as well as the plushie vow to re-tweet the post as soon as it’s up. By the time classes ended, the bearbee has essentially gone—what was the word? ‘Viral’.

                He thought he could catch a break from all the attention once he got home, but—

                “W-Wolf! Remember when I took a picture of you and your bearbee yesterday!? You’re all over the Net now!”

                He never took up the modeling offers, but it seems that he’s become a minor celebrity in his own strange way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I don't know what that part in the beginning about commitment and stressing out is doing there... I think this chapter was headed for light angst and some feels at first, then descended to a crack ending X'D And I have this habit of giving my original characters too much screen time... You (probably) won't see as much of Ueda in the next few chapters, yay...?
> 
> Anyway, the conclusion for this chapter is that bearbees are so cute they would be popular in any number of alternate universes, yup.


	8. Childhood Home, What Was and What Will Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to face the music. The slightly off-key, slightly cacophonic music that nevertheless means well. Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably late and quite off-topic, but still, I'll shamelessly dedicate this to the MaruMa event's second theme, 'Mother's Day' and 'Couple' XDD

“Yuuri, bring him home this weekend.”

                I immediately know that things are serious when Shouri calls me by name. He’s in a strange sort of early mid-life crisis now, maybe because of the stress that comes with being a politician and the Maou of Earth. I figure that’s the reason he acts more and more childish around me with every white hair he gets. Or maybe his mental age around me is inversely proportional to how mature he must act in public?

                “What’s the rush?” I will admit, I may have been running away a bit these past months. To be honest, I have no idea what will happen if –when I bring Wolfram back to Saitama.

                “You’ll be going on your first outstation job next week.” My brother-slash-boss almost makes me spit out my sake with those words, and just as nonchalantly continues on to complete what he started, “I thought you might as well make it your honeymoon. See, aren’t I a great boss? Told ya you wouldn’t regret working for me.”

                I cough for a good minute or so, the sake burning my nose and frying my brain. “I-isn’t that too sudden!?”

                “It’s not like you’re doing anything useful in the office,” Shouri stabs his ramen chopsticks into my rawest point, “and Brother-in-Law’s course has flexible hours, that’s why we chose it. It’s about time he started paying back that scholarship.”

                Sometimes I wonder if this older brother of mine is so unhappy about growing old that he wants to pull down the rest of the world with him.

                “You’re just jealous of my youthful energy…”

                “By the way, next week you’ll be getting to know our people around the world, so make sure to pack enough clean underwear. There might not be clean water in some of those places-- Ah, and remember not to drink water directly from the tap if there’s a strange-looking sign on the sink.”

                As I thought, he really is the Demon King.

 

“This is where you grew up?”

                Wolfram looks up at the small double-story terrace house, hands in his coat pockets. Well, it’s still larger than our apartment in Tokyo, but compared to Blood Pledge Castle, or what I remember of it…

                I sigh, extending my signature Japanese modesty. “I know it’s small and cheap and crowded and old…”

                “I was about to say it feels like you.”

                “I see, thank—Wait! What do you mean by that!?”

                Winter is just turning to spring, and his bright laughter seems to make the snow melt just a little faster. I hold up my hand to keep the sunlight bouncing off the windows out of my eyes, my lips curving in spite of myself.

                What was I worried about? We faced more life-and-death, end-of-the-world situations together than I can count—Surely meeting my parents couldn’t be worse than that?

                “Oh, Yuu-chan! And is that--!? Shouma, hurry!”

                Together, the two of us can face anything… I take his hand, and almost laugh when I feel it shaking slightly. My little bubble of triumph doesn’t last long, though, as I quickly see what got Wolfram so unnerved.

                My old man doesn’t seem too ecstatic to see us. Suddenly I wonder if he really was as busy as he claimed that Friday.

                “Hi, Mom.” My voice comes out sounding like a teenager again when the gate swings open, and I’m suddenly face-to-face with my parents since my shotgun wedding.

                “Sure took you guys a while,” my father grunts, arms crossed in front of his chest with barely concealed hostility. “I almost thought you’d forgotten you still had a home here to come back to.”

                “Shouma!” Mom slaps his arm, and in the crisp morning air the sound is loud enough to make me flinch. That must have left a bruise… but after so many years, Dad seems used to it. Or at least, he’s used enough to it that his only reaction is a short twisting of his features, not enough to break his ‘stern father’ act. Seeing his complete lack of apology, Mom pinches his arm instead—I have half a mind to report domestic abuse.

                “Alright, alright, let’s just go in first.” Shouri puts one hand each on Wolfram and my backs, shoving us all down the driveway and into the house. With so many of us there at once, the genkan feels smaller than I remember… The shoe racks can barely fit one more pair of adult shoes, and when Wolfram stands, his hair brushes the doorframe.

                He looks a bit lost. I call out, “I’m home”, and bump him in the side with my elbow. His emerald eyes blink, but he still doesn’t say anything. The unexpected silence weighs heavy.

                “I’m home,” Shouri says, smoothly removing his shoes. “If you’re done, get out of the way.”

                “R-right.” I push Wolfram into the living room, where my parents are already waiting. The atmosphere there isn’t much better.

                “So!” Mom claps her hands together, smiling a little too cheerfully. “First of all, congratulations! Our Yuu-chan is married! And I thought I’d have to wait at least another ten years, so I didn’t buy a proper dress for the wedding, what a shame…”

                Wait, is that why you guys didn’t attend!?

                “That wasn’t really a wedding,” Dad says with a hmph. “And who can blame you for not being prepared? It was far too rushed.”

                He may be my father, but his attitude is starting to make me bristle. What do you mean, rushed? We’ve been engaged for at least a decade!

                But that’s probably not the right thing to say to him right now, so I wisely keep my thoughts to myself.

                Whatever I say now will only sound like an excuse, and Wolfram knows it. The only one who can change the pace now is him, and no matter how pale he looks, he never backs down from a conflict. So he stands, and makes the perfect ninety-degrees bow. “It’s nice to finally meet you, uncle, auntie. My name is Wolfram Bielefeld, please take care of me from now on.”

                “Oh, just call me Mother,” Mom says, looking flustered, even though she can’t keep that gleam out of her eyes. “We have heard so much about you, isn’t that right, dear? _Dear_?”

                I get that Dad is unhappy, but at the rate this is going, he’ll be black and blue by the end of the day.

                Apparently he’s tired of this, too, because he suddenly blurts out, “Now I don’t know what you’re thinking, barging back into Yuu-chan’s life like this, and just when he was starting to get over you lot—”

                “Shouma!”

                “Dad!”

                Shouri just puts his hand on his forehead and sighs, as though wishing he could pretend he isn’t related to us.

                “—I’m just saying, if you ever hurt Yuu-chan again, you’ll have to answer to me!”

                “I won’t,” Wolfram says calmly in the face of a raging middle-aged man.

                “You won’t abandon him like you did last time?”

                He never did, I want to explain, but Wolfram just replies, “I won’t.”

                “You know that this life won’t be easy, right?”

                “I do.”

                “And this time you’ll stay with him until the end?”

                “I will.”

                Is it strange that I’m starting to get a little jealous? Even I only got one ‘I do’.

                Dad stares at him a bit more, trying to intimidate him, but there’s a limit to how much an aging Japanese salaryman can scare someone like Wolf, even if he is my dad. Wolfram meets his gaze with the eyes of a soldier—No, of a general on the battlefield.

                Finally, my father relents with a sigh. “I was still hoping to have cute grandkids that look like Yuu-chan…”

                “Dad!” I burst out, my cheeks burning. “You’re being embarrassing! And if you want more grandkids, ask Abby-neesan!”

                “Yuu-chan, you’re not being much better…”

                “This is the second foreigner to marry into the family,” Dad continues on his own. “What’s wrong with good ol’ Japanese women?”

                “Old man, aren’t you making a mistake? It doesn’t matter if they’re Japanese or not, Yuu-chan doesn’t do…”

                “Shouri!”

                “Call me onii-chan, baby brother. And welcome to the family, baby brother-in-law.”

                Wolfram’s expression is mixed, warm and cold, part of the family and still a stranger. It can’t be helped; after all, he’s heard so much about my family over so many years that he knows all their birthdays and their favorite teams, but this is the first time he’s actually meeting them face to face. Compared to his own family, all royalty and nobility, we Shibuyas are just… us.

                He doesn’t really know how to act around them. And my dad doesn’t know how to act around him.

                “…two sons, and they never had a proper Japanese wedding…”

                “Dad, no one does those anymore,” Shouri says patiently while I add, “Yeah, and Aniki isn’t married yet.”

                “That’s not my fault, so stop rubbing it in!”

                “It’s your fault that you couldn’t pin Abby-neesan down.”

                “That woman has completely misunderstood Japanese women roles! Of course she wouldn’t want to stay home making tea and babies! Oh, and she said she would be stopping by when she heard you and Wolfram are coming home today.”

                “What!? Why didn’t you say so earlier!?”

                “What does it matter to you? She’s my wife.”

                “You're not even married…” This argument is quickly draining me of my energy, so I look for Wolfram to recharge, only to find him and my mother missing from their seats. Leaving my dad to pick up where I left off, I follow the muffled sounds of conversation to the kitchen.

                “…won’t blame him, he’s just a little nervous to meet you, that’s all. That husband of mine, you couldn’t tell by looking at him, but he’s actually very flighty.”

                “He doesn’t like me, does he?”

                I stop outside the door, but the sound of clanging pottery and rushing water don’t. What are they doing in there, washing plates?

                “He just needs to get used to having another son. He _was_ looking forward to getting a proper daughter-in-law this time, that old pervert. Why, that day I saw him looking at the neighbor’s…”

                “Auntie…”

                “Call me Mother, Wolfie.”

                “…I’m not sure what I did to make you and uncle angry, but I’m sorry.”

                “Oh, we have nothing against you personally.” A creaking of the taps, and the sound of water is replaced by the rustle of cloth. “It’s just that—Well, I think Shouri would have mentioned it to you. He’s protective of Yuu-chan that way. Anyway, I meant to say… Yuu-chan wasn’t doing well since the last time he came back from your world.”

                My hand, already wrapped around the doorknob, starts to sweat.

                “It’s not your fault—is what we tried to think, but it was hard. It was like our little boy grew up somewhere we couldn’t see, far too fast for us to comprehend… grew older, and broken. He acted like someone whose best days were already behind him, and just wandered through his remaining time, lost. Shouri and Abby took him overseas to help him clear his mind, but then there was that accident—”

                A sharp pain shoots through my head. I barely hear Mom’s next words.

                “—But we’re all glad you’re here now. As much as my old man hates to admit it, Yuu-chan needs you. And I’m sure you’ll do fine by my little boy.”

                Mom… I blink away the tears pooling in my eyes from the pain. A shift in the air tells me someone opens the kitchen door, and then a large warm hand envelops my forehead, thumbing away the tears.

                “Eavesdropping is a bad habit, wimp.”

                “You were the one who taught me how to do it,” I reply automatically. His touch is gentle yet strong as he pushes me back. Guided by his rhythm, I follow him back into the living room.

                “No, I taught you to stow away. Gurrier was the one who told you to listen at doors.”

                “What were you doing in there?” I ask.

                “Washing dishes.”

                “Not dishes, sake cups!” Mom has arranged three of our best cups on top of each other, and is pouring sake from a fancy pot I never even knew we had into the smallest one. “Since your father was complaining so much about a traditional wedding, I thought we might as well do this. Here, a proper, one hundred percent Japanese, san san kudo ceremony!”

                I decide not to mention that I may have seen a Made in China sign on one of those cups.

                “San san…?”

                “We both drink three times from three cups,” I explain. “Three times three makes nine, which is supposed to be a lucky number.”

                “Ah, but it’s best if there were three couples too.” Mom puts a hand on her face, looking troubled. “It’s usually the br—the newlyweds, and their parents from both—”

                This time Dad pokes Mom in the back, and looks rather pleased with himself for it. Then he remembers the problem, and is about to say something when, as if—no, probably—no, definitely on cue, the house door slides open so forcefully the frame hits the wall with a thunk and bounces back.

                “I’m home--!”

                Well, at least this time Nee-san didn’t crash through the living room window. But then again, this time she’s carrying my toddler nephew with her.

                “Shigetsu!” I run up to carry him. “Come to Nii-chan!”

                “Unca Yuu-chan!”

                Abigail ignores the way I freeze up, throwing her son at me and blowing through to the living room like a kimono-clad typhoon. Regardless of what she says about Japanese women, she looks perfectly at home sitting on her knees in front of the san san kudo set. “You must be Wolfram. Since you came all this way on your own, I’ll perform the ceremony in place of your parents. After all, I’m your only living relative on this side.”

                Technically, her great grandfather was probably Conrad’s cousin an infinite number of times removed, which means she is in no way related by blood to Wolf. But she’s right, she is the closest thing he has.

                Wolfram blinks, and smiles dazzlingly. “Sure.”

                “Ahh, you’re even more beautiful than I heard—I’ve decided, Shouri, I’m going to divorce you!”

                “But we’re not even married…”

                My brother and I sigh in unison.

                After the simple ceremony in the living room, just the six of us drinking from old sake cups made in China and a three-year-old boy eating everything he can get his hands on, we decide to have a small reception dinner the next night. It’s rather short notice, but considering the time span given, quite a number of my old schoolmates show up. Ishino even gives a stirring speech about how my bravery changed his life, which ends with him and a lot of others crying drunken manly tears while I laugh awkwardly and down my wine.

                We all get more than a little drunk that night, and by the second half of the dinner Matsushita stops staring and just walk over to interrogate Wolf. Once again, I have to admire Wolfram’s aristocratic social skills. He remembers more names and faces than I do.

                As expected of my partner, hehe.

                After that we get a lot of gifts, too. For me, there’s a lot of baseball equipment, especially from my old teammates. Ashino-senpai brought a wedding cake from his bakery. As my best man, Murata hogs the mic for a good twenty minutes and then gives us a bag of… things that make me blush and leave Wolfram confused. Mom gives us cutlery, which is surprisingly normal for her, until she mentions the beautiful pair of wings she saw in Akihabara that day that were perfect for Wolfram, but couldn’t fit in the car so she left them at home as a surprise. Dad gives Wolfram his wedding suit and grows gruff when Wolfram calls him ‘Father’. Shouri and Abigail give us an old leather-bound diary and tell us to read it soon.

                “It may give you some ideas for your honeymoon,” Abby-neesan says with a wink.

                Shigetsu gives us both a wet kiss on the cheek, hehe. But I think he hugs Wolfram longer…

                A peal of delighted laughter pulls my attention away from my friends, and I see Wolfram lift my mom, twirling her around. For a second her figure seems to overlap with Lady Cheri’s, but that moment is quickly gone. Unlike with Lady Cheri, Wolf calls her Mom, a name that belongs only to Shibuya Miko. Her smile is so bright, she looks like a teenager again.

                All in all, it’s great to be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think... hope... that Shigetsu could be interpreted as April ("四月"). And my headcanon with Shouri/Abigail is getting out of control...
> 
> All those minor characters at the end are from different official(?) doujinshi, and I'll admit, I had to look them up XD Also, continuity! As in, I actually have a plan for the next chapter! *pops confetti*


	9. That Shore, Our Letter Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a honeymoon that overlaps with the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... it's been a while... ahahaha... lllOTL

The leather-bound diary belonged to one April Graves, granddaughter of Hazel Graves.

                “Hazel…” I closed my eyes. She had passed away peacefully while I was in that world, so I didn’t have to ask Wolf what happened to her. But for some reason, when I thought of her quietly sleeping face, my mind went back to Greta.

                Quickly I shook the thought away.

                “Ah, did I mention? Seisakoku named the day she died after her. They’re celebrating it like a second independence day.”

                I see. Time moves on even for those who had died. There was just too much for me to miss.

                Wolfram sees my expression, and probably figures out what I’m sighing about. But he never apologizes for it, neither does he ever suggest that I might not be comfortable listening to all these anecdotes. He doesn’t want me to harp on the past, but he’s not treating it, or me, like breakable glass dolls. Sure, my heart hurts every time he says something like this, but it would kill me more not to know a thing.

                Wolfram understands all that without having to ask, and I love him all the more for it.

                “…I can’t understand this.” He’s flipping through the diary with a frown now. I push the hair out of his eyes with my fingers and give him a kiss on the forehead before looking down at the pages.

                “Ah, that’s in English, isn’t it?” Of course he can’t read it, he’s still struggling with Japanese as it is. “Wait a sec, let me call Murata and see if he’s free.”

                “Can’t you read this? I heard this English language was taught in schools.”

                “Ehehe…”

                If it was a signboard or the autobiography of a cat, I might still manage. But just looking at that rather… wild handwriting is enough to give me a headache. I got the feeling Miss April wouldn’t exactly be writing in the precise proper English I studied.

                Murata is free, it turns out. As we waited for him to arrive at our apartment, Wolfram and I tried to remember what we could of Miss April Graves. It seemed we heard her name quite often, even though none of us met her directly.

                “Conrad met her granddaughter, though, wasn’t it?”

                “She’s the one who married that guy who looks like Conrart, huh.” Wolfram looks thoughtful. “I wonder if she’s anything like Abigaill.”

                I prickle a bit at the familiar way he says Nee-san’s name. The two of them hit it off instantly as the ‘foreigners who married into the Shibuya family’, as Dad put it, even though Wolf isn’t really a foreigner and Abi-neesan isn’t married.

                “That reminds me, they named Shigetsu after her, right?”

                “Yeah, they were going to name him April directly if he was a girl.” I still remember how disappointed Nee-san was when he turned out to be… well, a he. She’s probably gunning for a girl now, someone to carry the dominant Graves feminine gene. I wonder if there’s any point hoping that Shouri’s passive Japanese genes would help any…

                I sigh. Probably not. “Nee-san really admires Miss April. This diary must be precious to her, I wonder why she gave it to us.”

                “Hmm, she mentioned something about our honeymoon…”

                Our honeymoon. The words sound so unreal coming from Wolfram’s lips. I hurriedly duck down to hide my burning ears. “Well, she is always bugging Shouri to be more romantic, like that Conrad twin—”

                “His name was Richard Deuter.” As usual, Murata lets himself into our apartment without even knocking first. “And your older brother would be wise to stand his ground, Shibuya, because I’m not sure their adventure would be your average definition of romantic.”

                A quick flip through the diary confirmed his suspicions. “Your sister-in-law is hinting that you guys retrace their steps, in Germany.”

                “Germany!?”

                Wolfram frowns suspiciously at my reaction. “Isn’t that the place on my passport?”

               “If it is, Shibuya’s brother sure has a sense of irony.” After all these years, Murata still can’t call my brother by name, and vice versa. Their determination is actually rather impressive, when I thought about it. “After all, that is the closest known link to the other world.”

                “…!”

                The way Wolfram’s body stiffens makes my chest tighten for a moment until I catch myself. Come on, Shibuya Yuuri, have more faith in yourself. He’s not like one of those mail order brides who takes the kids and runs back home the first chance he can.

                Once he recovers from the impact of Murata’s words, his gaze falls back onto me. It feels like he can see right through me with those brilliant emerald eyes.

                “Yuuri, you don’t look surprised. You knew about this place before?”

                Murata raises an eyebrow. “What, you didn’t tell him?”

                “Didn’t tell me what?”

                As expected, Wolfram jumps on that in an instant. I glare at Murata, but Wolf’s eyes are practically beaming lasers into the side of my head now, so I turn my frustration to a helpless smile.

                “Oh, it’s just—Remember I said I flew on an airplane once? Shouri and Abi-neesan brought me there once before, for a change of scenery and all that, haha.”

                Ahh, even I think I sound suspicious. Murata’s shaking his head with an expression that says, ‘You can’t be honest even after you’re married.’ The truth is, I don’t know why I’m still hiding it. It’s not like anything will change if I tell Wolf—he already knows I’m a wimp, he always knew that.

                Even though he knew, he still married me. That thought makes me smile in spite of myself, but the smile diminishes a bit when I remember Germany. It’s… it’s okay. Things are different now. I take a deep breath.

                “Actually, Wolf…”

                “Yuuri, is it okay if we go there?”

                He’s not angry. He knows I’m hiding something, but his eyes meeting mine are calm.

              “I think it’s a good idea, retracing the steps they took on their adventure. Kinda romantic, don’t you think, Murata?”

                “…each to their own, I guess…”

                “Yuuri, you’re okay with going there, aren’t you?”

                Wolfram blows through the conversation with the force of a whirlwind. All I can do is nod.

 

Germany was one of the stops in our business trip for Shouri, anyway. The diary was a gift from both him and Nee-san, so I should have known he was in on the plan. All he had to do was bring Berlin to the front of our schedule and give us a few more days to our own.

                “Aren’t you coming with us?”

                My older brother looks at me like I lost my mind. “Why would I tag along on my little brother’s honeymoon? To check the sheets?”

                That quickly put an end to that conversation.

                It was funny watching Wolfram from the moment he stepped into the airport. His body went all tense, like a soldier on alert, yet his eyes practically sparkled with curiosity. His head turned rapidly to look at everything and anything, especially the people. After all the black-haired Japanese people, he seemed particularly taken aback to see a blonde guy like him.

                When we walk onto the airstrip and see the plane for the first time, he even freezes in place. His trolley bag rolls to a stop behind him, and I hastily move behind him so no one else will knock into him.

                “That—that big, heavy thing flies?”

                “Yup. Impressive, isn’t it?”

                He sighs, deeply. “If only I could show Anissina this.”

                Come to think of it, there was a lady in the airport with hair almost as red as Lady von Karblnikoff’s. It suddenly hits me, with a pang, that Wolfram might be feeling homesick before we even board the plane.

                “W-we won’t fall, right?” Wolfram’s hands are still tightly gripping the armrests after the initial ascension. He hadn’t gotten airsick, as we were worried he might, but all the blood drained from his face the moment he felt the plane take off. We are now cruising comfortably over five thousand feet high in the sky. I bet even kohi never reached this high.

                “Probably not,” I reply maliciously. “Sure, there are crashes here and there sometimes, but mostly we’ll be safe. What do you think? Aren’t humans amazing?”

                “Mazoku can do this too, with time! Anissina was already investigating the probability of lifting passengers over a long distance with a fixed input of wind maryoku—”

                “Oh no, who was the main test subject?”

                “Günter, I think he had an epiphany or something one of those times when he was falling from the top of the tower…”

                Talking about them calms him down, I notice. It’s only natural. And the closer we get to our destination, the more he talks about them.

                We arrive in Tegel Airport, and take a cab to the hotel in Berlin that April Graves stayed at with her companions. Murata had his own account of these events, but in the end he read aloud April’s diary anyway, to see her point of view as well. It was a good read. Miss April may not have been an author by profession, but her words tended to cut to the point, just like her actions.

                It is actually kind of romantic, contrary to what Murata said.

                Once we checked in our luggage, we took a cab to the Pergamon Museum, looking out for the stone lions and wondered which room that fateful arm had been held in. It feels strange to think that a Key was here, and I can’t help but imagine the lingering sense of power.

                “Too bad there weren’t any exploding glass cases,” I joke as we return to our hotel room. In response, Wolf sighs and lifts me into his arms anyway, just like Richard Deuter carried April Graves when she cut her feet. I feel like one of those couples emulating DiCaprio and Kate Winslet on every boat, until Wolf kicks open the room door and tosses me onto the bed.

                “You look like a blushing bride,” he notes, and I hold out my arms for him accordingly.

                The next afternoon we take the train to Frankfurt from East Station, and from there we rent a car properly, unlike what Lieutenant Deuter did back then. The river view is as beautiful as the diary described, though. It’s not quite the same as what I remember of the river running through the capital city back in Shin Makoku, but it’s every bit as majestic.

                Since there aren’t many cars on the road, I slow down a bit so we can enjoy the scenery better. I could tell that Wolfram is still a bit out of sorts from the jetlag, so we just sit in companionable silence, and I take my left hand off the wheel to lace my fingers with his.

                I almost hope that moment would last forever, but soon we’re within sight of Ahrweiler.

                As expected of the scenic old town that impressed even an adventurer as experienced as April, Ahrweiler really is a beautiful place. We take in the slanted roads and quaint little cottages, and even try to look for a souvenir store like in the diary. Even if we did find it, though, I’m sure the little boy back then would be a very old man now, if he was even still alive.

                On the other hand, we do get a nutcracker, albeit a significantly less dubious one.

                Afterwards we head towards the Apollinaris spring, though it seems tourists aren’t allowed to enter. It’s only natural now, since they’re selling the water bottled and at some crazy prices. I never spent so much money on water before—but oh well, it is our honeymoon, after all.

                It’s only after I finish half the bottle that I remember, this came from the same source that had a dirty old Box in it.

                We spend the night at Ahrweiler, and the next day, finally, we arrive at Lindau.

                At first we take our time, exploring the town, savoring some good food. I try some of the famous German beer, and with Wolfram’s goading me on, drink just a bit too much for an afternoon. By the time evening falls, just like in the diary, my steps are a little unsteady, and the world looks prettier somehow. Wolfram makes a big fuss about my poor alcohol tolerance, yet I can’t help but notice his words are slightly faster than usual, and his cheeks adorably rosy.

                He picks me up from the bar stool and throws my arm over his shoulder. Our bodies collide into each other, and at such a close distance, I couldn’t resist pecking him on the cheek.

                It’s not hard to find the old dock leading out into Lake Bodensee. The water laps peacefully onto the shore, dyed orange by the setting sun. The cool breeze blowing into town clears our minds a bit, and I take my arm off Wolfram’s shoulder to hold his hand instead.

                This is where the Box—my Box, Mirror’s Depth, had been sunk. This is where Richard Deuter was separated from April Graves in an explosion, and their first adventure ended with her swimming through the icy water alone, thinking he was dead. This is where, in his desperation to find me, Shouri had dragged Abigail together into the water, and poked his head into the other world.

                This is the closest connection we know to the other world.

                “…When I first left Shin Makoku,” I say softly, “I guess you could say I was in pretty rough shape. I regretted it, you know. Especially at night. Sometimes, I regretted coming back to my own world.”

                It was a horrible thing to think. This is where I was born. This is where I belonged. I couldn’t have just abandoned my family, my friends.

                But I thought it anyway. This is where I was born, but sometimes, I wondered if it really was where I belonged. And I had abandoned my family and friends anyway.

                “I hated the me who thought that way, and I felt guilty when facing the people here. Mom and Pops were really worried for me, and so were Shouri and Nee-san. So they brought me here, to see if it would make me feel better.”

                Wolfram doesn’t interrupt me, just tightens his hold on my hand.

                “We stood on this very spot, and then I—I jumped.”

                His hand is holding mine so tightly now it hurts, but I’m glad for the pain.

                “They saved me, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here, now would I? But I… I stayed down for quite some time, and it was late in the winter, just like now, so I caught a pretty bad cold. They had to send me to the hospital, because I was burning up so bad. It took three days for the fever to go down.”

                “…And then you forgot.”

                “Not really. Like I said, I couldn’t forget you and the others even if I tried. But I knew it wasn’t helping anybody, the way I kept missing you. Not me, or Murata, or my parents and Shouri who were worried about me. So I thought… It would be nice if I could pretend that was all a dream.”

                But the real dream was the next ten years. I barely remembered them now. I wonder how I’d managed to wade through the days then.

                “It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it? Haha.”

                “No, not really. I kind of understand how you felt, actually.”

                “E-eh?”

                He takes one more step towards the edge of the dock, until it looks like he’s going to dive into the water and away from this world, away from me. My heart twists so tightly in my heart I can’t even breathe, and my mind goes blank with panic as I reach out to him with my other hand—

                _Don’t go!_

I don’t want this dream to end.

                “Everyone!”

                He stops at the very edge, and holds up our entwined hands.

                “I’m here, and so is Yuuri! We got here safely, so don’t worry!”

                People are starting to stare at our backs, but I barely notice. All I can see is the determination on Wolfram’s beautiful features as he looks solemnly into the water, as though reporting to all the important people in his life.

                “Mother, we’re married now. Yuuri’s mother is just like you, so I’m sure she’ll take good care of me.

                “Brother, now that I’m not around to help you anymore, please rely on Conrad more. Take care of yourself, and be careful not to overwork.

                “Conrad, watch over Brother and Mother for me, and I promise I’ll take care of Yuuri too. And myself, of course.

                “Greta, it’s okay now, you can come home. I know you left the country so I could find Yuuri without worrying about you, but… Shin Makoku will always be your home, always.

                “Anissina, please go easy on Brother. Also, he’s a bit dense when it comes to feelings, so be gentle with him.

                “Günter, you’re not getting any younger. Give up on Yuuri, he’s mine now, you should find someone to settle down with in your old age—

                “Gisela, you probably don’t need me to say this, but take good care of your father, and help look after the country if you have time. I trust you.

                “Gurrier, you don’t have to settle with following orders, y’know. I bet you could be an excellent leader yourself, if you wanted to—but it’s okay if you want to retire early too, just tell Brother. You’ve done more than enough.

                “Adalbert, cherish the people around you. I know it’ll hurt you when they die before you do, but don’t push them away just because of that. If you really want to cry, just have a few drinks and cry your heart out. It’s not like I’ll be there to laugh at you.

                “Dacascos—”

                “Stepfather—”

                There are more names I don’t recognize. It’s just like a long letter home, and then he starts talking about what he’s doing now, how we’re doing, how happy we are. By that point I join in as well.

                “Conrad, how’s the baseball team doing? Have you won any tournaments?

                “Gwen, Wolf made the most adorable bearbee plushee that day, you should have seen it!

                “Anissina, I know you can invent a plane even better than the ones in this world, fight on!

                “Greta—I miss you.

                “Everyone…”

                I don’t regret coming back to Earth anymore. I can keep on living, because Wolfram is with me. He came all the way here, because he knows I couldn’t go back there, not back then, not now.

                But that doesn’t mean I don’t miss them.

                Wolfram kisses away the tears running down my cheeks, and turns back to the lake for the last time. Throughout the whole thing, he never once let go of my hand.

                “Everyone, we’re very happy here, so there’s no need to worry about us. Please be happy there as well.” He bows down low, and I follow by instinct, as we speak in unison, “Thank you for everything, and farewell!”

                With this—we can truly begin to move on.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While we’re still bowing, someone shoves us from the back. It is quite nostalgic, to tell the truth. And the water is very cold.

                Afterwards, Murata’s explanation was that the only way to end the trip retracing their steps was with a swim in Lake Bodensee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I gave in and changed the story status to 'complete' again. I mean, I still have ideas... like a new house... maybe even adopting... a dog XD But the more I think the more chicken I get, just look at how I ran away from this chapter until now... cuz I was too lazy to research April and Richard's love story again, lol. But man, was it a love story...
> 
> Anyway, sorry for my sucky fast-forwarded honeymoon descriptions. Forget Germany, I never stepped out of Asia... //cries


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